Wisdom and Love
by BR2607
Summary: Mags has seen a lot in her eighty years of life. She was there from the very first Hunger Games to the last and lived through everything in between. What life events built her into the caring, motherly old woman who volunteered for the third quarter quell? This is her full story.
1. Prologue: The Dark Days

Prologue: The Dark Days

The world is such a better place through the eyes of a child. My earliest memories took place during a time of war and destruction, but I was oblivious to it. I preferred playing with my homemade mermaid doll over watching the Capitol's broadcast. At night, my parents would sit together, worried lines forming their faces, as they watched the news and murmured things that made no sense to me. I did not know that somewhere out there, bombs were exploding and thousands were dying. I heard the word "war" frequently, but it meant nothing to me. I was far too innocent to understand the concept.

District Four was a fairly safe place to be during the first rebellion. I would later learn that there was some unrest, but it was nothing compared to the fight of the poorer, more oppressed districts. There were some killed, but the hordes of peacekeepers kept the conflict from escalating. War-time precautions were completely normal in my eyes.

My life was preoccupied by the care-free way in which children see the world. The beach was regulated by Peacekeepers who oversaw the fishing industry, but my father found a private part of the beach that we could escape to. We went almost every day, and it was exhilarating to splash around in the water and collect seashells around the shore. My father and I would take turns burying each other in the sand and spend the rest of the day making fish hooks. The rest of my free time was spent with my younger cousins. I had two at the time, and one was a baby. I was fiercely protective of them and considered them my siblings.

The first time I noticed something was wrong was immediately after the end of the war. I was five years old. A district-wide assembly was called in the town square. At first I thought it was some kind of celebration, but I changed my mind when I saw not one person was smiling. I squeezed my mother's legs as a large screen descended in front of the justice building and a man I recognized to be President Burns appeared on the screen. He had grey hair that was always slicked back, a full beard, and big yellow eyes. I wondered if they were real because I had never seen anyone with eyes of that hue, not to mention their unnatural brightness.

"We are gathered here today to discuss a punishment for the districts' failed rebellion. As you can see, the Capitol is much stronger than your efforts. All you have succeeded in doing is killing your own. Not just rebels either; innocent citizens died for your selfish motives. Because of your actions of defiance, District 13 has been obliterated," his voice boomed. I didn't know what he was talking about, but his words sent fear up my spine.

The screen now held a video of a burning place that was so destroyed, there was clearly no hope for anyone who lived there.

My small face was suddenly streaming with tears. "Why did they do that, Mama?" I asked desperately, peering up at her face through my tears. "What about all the people who live there?"

My mother lifted me and stroked my back as I buried my face into her shoulders. "Shhh, my little Mags. Those people will be fine. Don't worry your little head, my poor girl," she cooed.

It was the first time I ever considered my mother might be lying to me.

President Burns' voice was back again. "What a disaster this war has caused. Don't worry, the responsible people of the Capitol will see to it that this crime against humanity will never happen again."

At that moment, a strangely colorful man handed the President a slip of paper, which he began reading off of.

" This is the Treaty of Treason, which we will henceforth rely on to prevent another unfortunate uprising." He cleared his throat before reading, "In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public 'reaping'. These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol, and then transferred to a public arena where they will fight to the death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games."

I was beyond confused, but I could feel the tension in the crowd. I heard many people gasp as they realized the meaning of the words, and I looked up to see several were crying. Whatever the Hunger Games were for, they would only result in pain and death. I cried too, not so much over the President's words but their implications.

For once, I realized people weren't all friends and dedicated to helping each other. There were bad people who would kill and upset others just because they could.

The world was not the happy place I thought it was.


	2. Unlucky

**A/N: I know female tributes are usually drawn first, but I'm going to assume that it started out with males being drawn first for the sake of the story. You'll see why ;)**

The first thing I feel upon awakening is confusion. There's always a brief feeling of disorientation after waking up from a nightmare in which you have to remind yourself that none of it was real. I make that connection, but I am still wondering how I ended up in a bedroom that is not my own. It is only when I feel my still-sleeping cousin press up against my back that I remember I slept over at my aunt's house. It's a Reaping Day tradition.

I pull myself out of the bed and look at my three cousins. I love them so much they might as well be my brother and sisters. We could pass for siblings; we all have the same blondish brown hair and blue eyes. They look so peaceful when they're sleeping, but I have to wake them up because the older two will be in the Reaping with me.

I smile to myself as I walk over to where the girls, Marilla and Hallie, are sleeping and pull the springy mattress off the bed.

"Mags! I'm going to kill you!" Marilla screams as she tumbles onto the wooden floor. Somehow Hallie managed to stay asleep for the fall, but her sister's scream jolts her awake.

"Oh, I'm so scared! Maybe if I'm lucky the Games will kill me first!" I reply. I was just kidding, but it came out all wrong. Silence follows. That was a bad joke. A really bad joke. I quickly change the subject so we can pretend it didn't happen. "You need to get up. You don't want to be late for your first Reaping, do you?"

"Guess not," Marilla replies thoughtfully. "Good luck waking up Kai, though," she says, motioning to her fifteen year old brother on the other side of the room.

"I know how to wake him up!" Hallie chirps in. She's only ten, so she is safe from the Reaping this year. I can't express how relieved that makes me feel because she is the youngest and I have always seen her as my baby, even though I'm only seven years older.

"Good, I'll leave you to that. Your sister and I have to get ready," I reply as I practically drag Marilla into the small bathroom.

We change into our Reaping Day clothes. Just like last year, I wear a knee- length green button down dress with a seashell necklace. I leave my long golden brown hair down as usual. I love the way the sea breeze blows through it and how the ocean water makes it wavy. I'm barely aware of Marilla's complaints about wearing a ruffled blouse and skirt because anxiety is already twisting my stomach. It feels like my insides are being turned into one big rope net, secured by painfully tight knots that my father and I make on the beach. I wish I was on the beach now so I could calm my nerves. No matter how much I act like I'm fine, the reality is I'm terrified. But it's my job to put on a brave face for my cousins. Despite this, I can't help but ask Marilla a quick question.

"Are you nervous?" I half whisper. My voice shakes a little on the last word.

"No. Our names aren't going to be picked. I don't see any point in worrying."

I examine her face for any sign that she's lying to cover up her fear, but I can't find any. Marilla has always been brave. It's embarrassing that a twelve year old can handle this situation better than me.

"Me neither," I lie as I look at our reflections in the mirror. She's almost as big as me now. I've always been petite, but not in an unhealthy way. Just in the way of someone who has a small frame. I see Kai walk in behind us in the reflection. I worry about him on Reaping Day because he is the kind of person who rushes into rash decisions. Last year all he could talk about was how much stronger he was than all the tributes that had been picked. Still, I'm sure he has enough common sense to not gamble with his life.

We exchange small talk as we finish getting ready and walk out the house. My aunt and uncle are with us as we go to meet up with my parents. On any other day of the year, the Square is bustling with fisherman making trades and families shopping at the market. Here in District Four, we have a spirit that is not easily crushed. It's only on days like this that people have dismal expressions on their faces and walk with their heads down. It makes me uncomfortable. I can't help but think back to the announcement of the first Hunger Games. The day I realized how capable of cruelty humans are. It's strange to think how far I've come since that day. There isn't one despicable act that surprises me anymore.

That's the kind of effect the Games have.

It is so crowded that I can barely put one foot forward without walking into someone. I catch sight of my parents and push my way through the crowd over to them. My mother embraces me and my father rests his sturdy hand on my shoulders.

"You're going to be just fine, Magnolia. I'm making shrimp stew later. We'll have a feast," he says with a smile, but I can see the worry in his deep blue eyes. I normally don't like it when he uses my full name, but his reassuring words are all I have to hold onto to keep from panicking.

"Thanks, Dad," I say and muster up a smile before walking over towards the other seventeen year olds. Last night's nightmare is still fresh in my mind as I anxiously wait for it to start. Isidora Satin, the District Four escort, skips onto the stage and theatrically waves to the audience. She's wearing a bright purple suit with pink stripes and matching lipstick. Her wildly curly pink hair is blowing in the breeze, and it keeps covering up her face as she talks. Long story short, she looks ridiculous.

"Welcome to the Reaping of the twelfth annual Hunger Games!" she says ecstatically. Only a few people cheer back in response. Most just glare at her. "Before I read the names of this year's tributes, we have a short video for all of you to watch! Isn't that exciting?"

It's the same video every year. President Burns reminds us how disgraceful our actions were in what he now calls the Dark Days of Rebellion and points out how we killed thousands of innocent people. It seems a little hypocritical considering the Capitol is about to select children who were too young to know the Rebellion was even going on to certain death. While the video is playing, I scan the area for Kai and Marilla without success.

"Okay, let's find out which young man will represent District Four this year! Maybe we can turn our duo of victors into a trio," Isidora says, motioning towards two young men that won the fifth and ninth Games, respectively. She then digs her hand into a huge glass ball. "I have a good feeling about this one!" she squeals as she pulls a slip out.

My stomach is in knots again. They get tighter and tighter with each passing second until I'm sure I won't be able to breathe. I am hoping with every fiber of my body that it won't be Kai. And, thankfully, it's not.

"Charles Flounder," Isidora bellows, and the knots loosen enough to allow myself a huge sigh of relief. A scrawny thirteen year old with glasses and freckles is forced onto the stage by Peacekeepers. I automatically feel sorry for him, and am a little ashamed that I felt so relieved at his death sentence.

"Is there anyone who would like to volunteer for this young man?" she asks.

"I volunteer!"

I automatically freeze. It isn't the words that shock me. No, I've heard them a few times before. This District is slowing gaining a population of people who actually want to go to the Games for honor and glory. No, it is the voice that takes me off guard. Because I would recognize my cousin's voice anywhere.

_Why? _It's the only thought I can think. So many emotions are running inside of me that I can't begin to place them. I feel my hands clasp over my mouth as Kai walks onto the stage, looking confident and eager. I'm supposed to protect him, and all I can do is watch as he volunteers himself for death.

"Ah, excellent!" Isidora gushes. "And what might your name be, handsome young lad?"

"Kai Merrick," he answers, not a swerve in his voice.

"Well, Kai, we are certainly happy to have you aboard. Now it's time to draw the name for the female tribute!"

I am past worrying about what name will come out of the bowl. All my attention is focused on my despair over Kai becoming a tribute in the Hunger Games. I'm almost positive that I won't even hear the girl's name called.

But I do.

It's like when you're in school talking with a friend while the teacher is going over a lesson. You are oblivious to everything that comes out of the teacher's mouth…until they say your name. That always gets your attention. At least it does for me.

It is my name that calls me back now.

"Magnolia Brine," she announces in her funny Capitol accent. I'm frozen again. That's my name. I am going to the Hunger Games. With my cousin. I think I am going to be sick when I realize that we won't be returning together, unless we are both in caskets. This is all wrong. This isn't how is was supposed to work.

I see two white clad Peacekeepers walking in my direction, and I will my legs to move. Impossibly, I make my way toward the stage. Hysteria is rising inside of me and the knots are so tight that I want to hunch over, but I keep a straight face. Now is not the time to be weak.

"Nice to meet you, Magnolia," Isidora chimes, and it takes everything I have to reply without letting emotions overcome me.

"Call me Mags," is all I manage to get out. I pray that someone will volunteer for me, but when the escort asks, there are no takers.

I cannot meet Kai's eyes. I stare out in the crowd, trying to look at nothing in particular so I won't have to see my family's faces.

"Mags, I'm sorry. How was I supposed to know?" I hear Kai say under his breath.

I give a little shake of my head in response. Isidora Satin addresses us one last time before closing the ceremony and tells us to shake hands.

As I grip Kai's hand, all I can think is that I had once again been wrong about life. The worst thing that could happen to me wasn't getting picked for the Games. It's one thing if I have to die. Being shipped off with a family member when you know there can only be one winner is something completely different.

How could I hope to win when it would mean a loved one must die?


	3. Empty

**A/N: Here's the update. Please leave feedback if there's anything you like/dislike about the story. **

If being reaped was hard, figuring out how to say goodbye is impossible. I am in a private room of the Justice Building, which is heavily guarded by Peacekeepers. Maybe they're worried I'll try to run away.

It's funny how I have lived in District Four my whole life and have never been inside here. The floors are a cool marble and the bench I am sitting on has engravings of waves and sea creatures going up the side. I fidget nervously as I wait for my family to show. I doubt my aunt, uncle, and cousins will come because they will be with Kai. Not that I want to see them right now anyway. It would be too awkward because no matter how much they care about me, I know they are hoping Kai will emerge as victor.

I can feel the hysteria inside me again as my parents emerge through the door. The emotions are pushing, trying so hard to overcome the barrier and flow freely through me. But I keep myself in control.

My parents look so much older than I remember them, even though it has been less than an hour since I talked to them last. Every worry line on their faces has inexplicably become deeper and more defined. The three of us stare at one another for a moment, hoping someone will find appropriate words to say.

It ends when I see silent tears dripping down my mother's face.

Comforting people. Finally something I'm decent at. I automatically cross over to her and put my arms around her as if I am the parent and she is the child.

"Shh, it's okay. Please Mama, don't cry over me. This isn't how I want to remember you."

She looks up with a strange look in her eyes. I can't tell if its determination, desperation, or some other emotion. Maybe it's a mix of those things. Tears are still sliding down her cheeks, but I know there is something in her eyes other than sorrow.

"Come back to us, Mags. I know it won't be easy, but I need you to try. _We _need you to try," she says, her eyes flickering over to my father for a second.

"I'll promise I'll try," I say half-heartedly. I know it isn't what they want to hear, but it's all I can give them.

My father lifts my chin towards his face and says, "No matter what happens in that arena, you will always be our Mags. That will never change. Just try not to lose sight of who you are and what you stand for."

His words puzzle me. They seem so contradictory. At first, it seemed like he was saying it's alright with him if I have to kill people to get back home; he'll accept me no matter what. But what does he mean by the last part? Don't lose sight of who I am and what I stand for? What do I stand for? If it's being a decent person and not murdering innocent kids, then there's no way I can come home myself.

I want to ask him what he means, but the words don't come. My lapse in concentration of withholding my emotions has allowed a single tear to escape out my eye. My mother wipes it away with her finger before it can fall to the cool, marble floor. We stay like this for a few minutes- huddled close together to where we can feel each other's body heat. We are one indivisible unit and nothing can destroy that. I feel like a small child, and for a moment I want nothing more than to be little and innocent again. But the world was just as much of a mess then as it is now.

A Peacekeeper informs us that we have one minute left. This seems to alert my father, and he pulls something out of the pocket of his worn suit.

"Keep this with you. Hold it close and remember home." It looks like he wants to say more, but can't get the words out. Instead, he plants the small object into the palm of my hand.

It's a seashell, just like the ones I collect on the beach. It's only slightly bigger than the tiny clams that bury themselves into the sand with each sweep of the tide. While most shells on the beach range from pure white to pale blue, this one is a lovely pastel orange. It has two white lines that stretch across it vertically and, when I turn it around in my hand, I can see flecks of red reflect off of it.

"It's beautiful, Daddy," I say breathlessly. How long has it been since I called my father "Daddy"? The word seems to bring a ghost of a smile to his lips.

The Peacekeeper disrupts our moment by forcefully telling my parents that visitation is over, and they are expected to leave this instant_. _As they are escorted out, I try to say "goodbye", but my lips won't form the word. It is trapped inside my throat, and I almost start panicking because I suddenly _have _to say it. If they leave without it, they might hold onto the hope that I will win. I don't want them to hope. I want them to expect me to die right away, so maybe if I survive a few days, they won't be disappointed because I have exceeded their expectations.

The word finally slips out, but it is too late. They are gone. I replay our conversation in my head, wishing I could go back. Last words are never long enough, because there is never a point where you have said all you need to say to feel satisfied. There is always the disheartening feeling that there was something else, and those unsaid words haunt you forever. Already, a lifetime of unsaid words are bouncing around my body.

I have never felt so empty. Even all the terror, sadness, unfinished goodbyes, and knots inside of me. All of it hurts, but none of it can fill me up. Suddenly drained, I have no energy to even think. I do not protest when two Peacekeepers take me by the arm and pull me toward the train.

I almost trip when they let go of my arm, but then I am taken aback by the extravagance of the room in front of me. Just minutes ago, I thought the Justice Building was elaborate. It is as plain as the rooms in my house compared to this. All I can think is that any item in this room, whether it be the plush leather chairs, or the intricately patterned carpet, or even the fine craftsmanship of the wooden table (which of course, is set with the fanciest napkins and silverware), must cost more than my family makes in a year.

"Dang, this place makes the Justice Building look cheap," a voice from behind says, mimicking my own thoughts. Kai.

"Yeah," I agree.

For the first time ever, I do not know how to talk to my own cousin. What is there to say? I hope we don't have to kill each other?

After only half a minute, I can't stand the silence any longer, so I ask, "How are you holding up?"

"Okay. Not as good as I thought I would, but no one expected this…" he replies, trailing off.

I sit down in one of those big leather chairs and feel myself sink into it. What I would give to have a piece of rope with me right now. At least then I could distract myself by tying and untying knots. Instead, I settle for tightening and loosening my grip on the arms of the chair. I close my eyes and try to block it all out.

It doesn't work well. There's something I need to know.

"Kai…," I begin nervously. "How long have you been planning to volunteer?"

"I don't know. A while, I guess. I didn't decide until they picked that boy. Did you see him? He didn't stand a chance."

"Do you stand a chance?" I ask, my eyes still snapped shut.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm more athletic than most of the people who get reaped. The way I see it, the odds were more in my favor than his." A minute passes before he adds, "He and his mom came visit me in the Justice Building. They couldn't stop thanking me."

I consider this a minute before opening my eyes and replying, "I guess that makes you a hero then. At least from their perspective."

If I think of it this way, I can feel a little better about the situation. It really was noble for Kai to save that boy's life. I just have to block out the fact that our family now has to experience twice the pain. It isn't fair to say that the boy's family deserved their own share of loss, because, really, who does deserve it?

I don't think I can be mad at Kai anyway. I don't have the strength for that right now. If we're going to die within the next week or two, I would rather us not be mad with each other.

It's then that Isidora walks in, blabbering something about how disappointed she is in the color of the paint on the wall. She is followed by District Four's two victors: Kallan Rillet and Alec Calder. They've been famous in Four since they won their Games. I've never really been a fan, mainly because I connect them with the violence of the Hunger Games.

Kallan won seven years ago and is now in his early twenties. He overpowered the other tributes with his size and muscle, not to mention his impressive use of a spear. It always seemed to me like he was too enthusiastic about the Games, but I know he is Kai's idol. I see him walk over towards my cousin and shake hands with him. I almost feel like smiling, but I'm so drained that I don't have the strength to do it.

That must mean Alec is my mentor. He won three years ago at sixteen with his charm and human-catching nets. He has his fair share of muscle too, but he isn't as built up as Kallan.

Yes, he is walking towards me now. I try so hard to stand up and meet him, but it is useless. My body has taken on a mind of its own and decided it is too weak to respond to my brain's requests. All I can think of is how empty I am, yet full at the same time with grief. There's no way I can start talking strategy right now.

I can't meet his eyes when he approaches me because I am suddenly terrified that if I make myself respond, I will completely lose it and embarrass myself by crying. All I can do is stare past him and keep a poker face as he speaks to me.

"Hey, you must be Magnolia. I'm Alec Calder, but you probably knew that already. I'll be your mentor. Do you have any ideas for the Games?"

I know I'm being rude, but I can't manage anything except for a small shrug. This isn't how I wanted my first impression to go. I really am a nice person, but my emotions are dangerously close to overpowering me and I just can't function. I can't. I can't. I can't.

Enough time passes for it to become awkward when Alec sighs and I wonder if he's being sympathetic because he knows how stressful it is to be in this position. I force my eyes to meet his. For the first time, I notice how green they are. It's a darker green, like the plants and vines that grow around Four, but they are so bright at the same time.

It is then I take in his expression. He isn't sympathetic; he's annoyed, maybe even angry.

"Look, I know you're having a bad day, but my day hasn't exactly been all rainbows and sunshine either. If you're just going to shut me out because you think you can handle this without my help, this isn't going to work," he says, his face harsh and cold.

Before I can force my mouth to form an apology, Kai is walking towards Alec angrily.

"Lay off, okay? None of this is her fault!" he says.

"It's no one's fault, but she's still going to have to deal with it if she wants to survive. You won't be able to protect your girlfriend in the arena."

"She's not my girlfriend. She's my older cousin," Kai booms. Behind him, Kallan makes a sound of surprise.

The expression on Alec's face suddenly changes. "Oh, sorry," he says, looking remorseful. "I didn't know that."

I finally find the strength to pull myself out of the chair and say, "It's okay. I'm sorry, too. I've just never felt so drained."

Alec doesn't look my way, but he calls for Isidora. "Isidora, why don't you go show Magnolia her room?" She jumps up out of her chair, her curly pink hair bouncing with her, as she leads me down a corridor to my room.

"I'll come get you in time for dinner," she promises. "It doesn't take too long to reach the Capitol, either. We should be there by eleven o'clock tonight."

I nod to her and try to smile. Finally, I am left to myself. Without even making note of the features in the room, I cross over to the big white bed and bury my face into a pillow. Within seconds, I am sobbing.

Here I have time to let my mind consider everything that's happened. What I can't decide is whether that is a good or bad thing.


	4. Capitol

Two hours later, I am ready to rejoin the others in the living area. Before I leave the room, I examine myself in the floor length mirror to make sure I don't look as torn apart as I feel. I can fix my disheveled hair by running my hand through it, but there really isn't much I can do about my eyes. Everyone will know I've been crying, but I guess that wasn't much of a secret anyway.

My little breakdown in no way helped right the situation I'm in, but I feel as if I can deal with it better now that tears are out of the way. At least for now.

"Look who made it back!" Kallan announces with a grin.

"Yep, can't hide in my room forever," I reply as I take in the scene. Alec, Kallan, and Kai are all sitting on a large sofa and looking intently at the television. Isidora is by the table giving instructions to two servants on how to set the table.

"The replay of the Reapings will be on in a few minutes!" Kai calls out to me. He seems to be in a strangely good mood considering the circumstances.

"That can wait a minute, don't you think?" Isidora asks them. "Dinner's ready. Trust me, you're going to want to get it while its hot."

I'm about to reply when something catches my eye. On the table is a huge mound of food. So much that I can't comprehend it all being for just us five. We've always had enough food to get by in District Four, but our fried fish and seaweed-tinted rolls can't compare with this feast.

I see baskets of rolls, platters of seafood, bowls of soup, meat dishes topped with various sauces, fruit trays, and several other foods I have no name for.

"Is all this for us?" I ask in disbelief.

Isidora laughs in a high-pitched chime and waves her hand towards me. "Oh, you District children crack me up. Every year it's the same response. Of course it's for you! Who else would it be for?"

"Oh, I'm just not used to seeing so much food," I say.

"Completely understandable," Alec says, speaking up for the first time since I left my room. " Nothing like District Four, is it, Magnolia? I recommend the chicken parmesan and that first soup on the left."

"Okay, I'll try those," I say. "Oh, and you can call me Mags. I don't like my full name."

"Good." After a second, he seems to realize how that sounded and quickly does damage control. "Oh! I didn't mean 'good' that I don't have to call you by your full name. It really is a nice name, even if it is kind of long. I mean, I like Mags, too…"

I cut him off with a small but honest laugh. It is really something, seeing Alec Calder fumble for words, especially when he seems so cool and collected on television. Maybe he is trying to make up for our rocky start. "It's fine. I know what you meant. No harm done."

Just then, the servants serve us our dishes and Kallan and Kai rush over from the sofa, grab some plates, and head straight back. Knowing Kai, I predict he will put down several plates of food before he stops eating. I don't think I've ever seen him leave a crumb on his plate. Not that we've ever had enough food to be wasteful.

Alec copies their motions by grabbing his own plate and heading back to the sofa. This seems to set Isidora off.

"Where are your manners? Food is to be eaten in the dining area, no exceptions!"

They only laugh in response and I can't help but think how much this scene looks like a typical family. I see, not victors, but unruly sons breaking the rules and laughing as their mother scolds them on eating outside the kitchen. Isidora is probably in her thirties, so she's a bit young to be their mother, but I've heard the same tone of disapproval in my own mother from time to time. I'm sure Kallan and Alec don't see her as part of their family, but something about the scene makes me trust all of them more.

When you're used to seeing certain people on T.V. killing other kids, it's a bit of a surprise to see them in a family setting acting like normal people. I much prefer thinking of them this way.

"Oh, they never listen to me. Sometimes I think they don't respect me at all," Isidora says, the frown on her face so exaggerated that she really looks devastated.

My natural instinct to comfort people takes over and I find myself trying to cheer her up. "Well, what do you expect from two boys?" I say jokingly.

"Of course. We need a female victor," she agrees.

The Capitol seal appears on the television screen and the replay of this morning's Reapings begins. Was that really just this morning? It feels like a lifetime ago that I was pulling Marilla and Hallie out of bed and putting on the green dress that I am still wearing.

I stay at the table, half to appease Isidora and half because I don't want to spill soup on myself. It's hard to remember every face as we watch the replay. Only a few really stick out in my mind.

Between Districts One and Two, there are three volunteers. Alec points out that he heard Two opened up a school that kids can attend to train for the Games, and One is considering doing the same. It sounds awful to me, but I keep my mouth shut so I don't offend anyone.

I make a mental note to watch out for Osten, a bulky boy with blond hair from One. A volunteer from Two named Kimberly strikes me as a threat as well. She is tall and lean, but something in her smile convinces me that she is cocky and expects to win.

Three doesn't make much of an impression on me because I am waiting for Four.

I think I'm going to be sick when I see the thirteen year old called because I know that Kai will volunteer and I don't want to relive that. When Kai finally climbs onto the stage, his expression exudes confidence and bravery.

Remembering what happened next has my stomach in knots all over again. I watch myself walk towards the stage, looking pale-faced and shocked, but in control. The change in Kai's expression from confident to devastated is immediate. The commentator takes note of this.

"I wonder what Panem is going to think about that," I say softly.

"I assumed you two were together, or at least very good friends, " Alec comments.

Kai seems annoyed by this. "Can't you see the resemblance? Everyone says we look alike."

"Well I can now. I didn't think about it before because I've never seen family members reaped together."

Exactly. No one would ever expect us to be cousins because the odds are completely against it. If only Kai hadn't volunteered…

Kallan suddenly pipes up. "This can be a good thing. If you make the big reveal in the interview, no one will forget you two. You'll probably get a bunch of sponsors who take pity on you. Combine that with whatever sponsors you get from substance or ability and we'll be doing good," he says, sounding excited at the prospect of a new strategy.

Kai responds, but I tune out the conversation because it's starting to make me mad. Do they really think getting more sponsors will make up for any of this? It won't change the fact that there will be only one winner.

Even if one of us wins, it won't be a victory.

By the time I looks back at the T.V., they are on Six. From here on out, the tributes look less eager and more like scared kids. I make only a few more mental notes. The girl from Seven. The boys from Nine and Eleven.

It disturbs me how sickly and malnourished some of the children from poor districts look. It scares me when I see two twelve year olds called because it makes me think of Marilla being in this situation. But, most of all, it hurts me when I realize that twenty-three of these kids will be dead within weeks, and most of them will die horribly painful deaths. And their families will be forced to watch.

I don't feel like talking anymore. I don't feel like pretending we're all friends and everything is okay because nothing is. I'm not in danger of crying right now, but I can feel the emptiness returning.

For the remainder of the train ride, I sit by myself facing the window. I pull the little orange seashell out of my pocket and press it to my lips. My father told me to keep it close by and remember home.

That's what I do now. I think about feeding the seagulls crumbs of bread on the beach. The time my cousins and I tried to dig a hole to the center of the world but ended up hitting water instead. Sitting on a fishing boat with my father, the breeze blowing my hair. Tying knots for nets and crafting fish hooks. Helping my mother fry fish while she laughs and tells me a story. I even think about darker times, like when a strong hurricane hit and we were all huddled under the kitchen table while the walls shook.

At least we were together then.

We arrive in the Capitol at exactly eleven o'clock, just as Isidora promised. There are other trains parked on the tracks, so I can tell we are not the first to arrive, but not the last either. We walk as a group into the Training Center and go to the fourth floor, which is reserved for our district.

Impossibly, it is even more extravagant than the train. Alec leads me down a hallway to my room.

"Good night, Mags. Remember, tomorrow is a new day," he says, his green eyes concentrating on my face. They really are kind of beautiful… Wait, this isn't the time to be thinking things like that.

I drop my eyes and say, "Yeah. You should get some sleep, too. Good night."

He walks away and I am left on my own in my room. Everything about it, from the closet to the bed in the middle, is oversized. I go to take a shower, only to realize that I have no idea how to work it. Instead of waking someone else up for something as embarrassing as this, I retire to my bed.

The next morning, I wake up shaking. I wish I was one of those people who can't remember their dreams. Unfortunately, I have long, vivid dreams, and I always remember them. It started out nice; I was on a boat back in District 4. It wasn't until the ocean shifted into the arena and I saw other tributes being swallowed by sea monster muttations that it turned into a nightmare.

Luckily, Isidora Satin barged into my room and saved me from my horrible dream. She doesn't seem to notice my trembling.

"Time to get up! You have a big day ahead of you! Right after breakfast, you get to meet your prep team and stylist. I bet you can't wait for the opening ceremony tonight!"

Actually, I can wait. But instead of admitting I'm not as enthusiastic about the day as she is, I give a smile and announce that I'm going take a shower first.

I try my best to figure it out and end up covered in lotions and scented sprays. When I finally find the hot water, it blasts full force, and I am suddenly the color of a lobster. At last, I get the hang of it, and I have to admit it is kind of relaxing to be under the water.

Breakfast is just as delicious as dinner was. I try to sample all the foods, but I am full after two pancakes, a beignet, scrambled eggs, and a hearty piece of sausage. Really, the only thing on the table I didn't care for is the coffee. Alec hands me sugar cubes for it, but I end up just eating them whole.

"Looks like someone's got a sweet tooth," Alec jokes. We are the only two left at the table because I got to breakfast late and Alec is obligated to stay with his tribute.

"Why sweeten the coffee when the sugar's better by itself?" I ask.

"Good point. Besides, it can't hurt for you to put on a few pounds. Everyone loses weight in the arena."

I think of how much of a mess most victors are when they are pulled out of the arena. I've always wondered how the doctors can put them back together so quick because they always look healthy just days later for the Games highlights.

Alec's expression dips to a frown and he says, "I know you don't want to, but we need to start discussing strategy."

My frown mimics his. "I know, but we don't have much time today anyway. I'm surprised Isidora hasn't forced me to go meet the prep team yet."

"Are you nervous about tonight?" he asks.

I think about that for a minute. "Just a little. I hope I don't get a really bad costume."

"I'm sure you'll look fine," he says with a small smile. And then I'm looking into his eyes again.

Almost like clockwork, Isidora bursts in and practically pulls me out of the chair. "No tribute of mine is going to be late for prep!" she exclaims, and I think of her like a mother again.

I am dropped off into a room by myself. There is a note on the wall that says to strip down, have a seat, and wait for further instruction. So much for me being late.

I have to admit, I'm a bit uncomfortable with letting three strangers see me naked. However, my worries seem pointless when they come through the door and the prep work begins. There are two girls who are twins and one boy. All three of them are dressed so exotically that its hard to tell what they would look like naturally. Even though their outfits and hairstyles are foreign, I find that they are all very polite. They let me know what they are doing with each solution they rub into my skin and make conversation so I won't feel uncomfortable.

"You're really pretty, you know. You'll look stunning tonight," one of the girls tells me.

I blush a little and thank her. Her twin brings me to a mirror and I still look like myself, but my flaws have been erased. I decide that I like my prep team.

I hope my stylist will be the same.


	5. Costume

I chat with my prep team for a few minutes before my stylist enters the room. I learn the twin's names are Faria and Zia, and they each wear distinctive colors so everyone can tell them apart. Faria, the one who complimented me, is adorned in lavender, while Zia's clothes and hair are a butterscotch yellow. The man, Soma, is very quiet, yet friendly. His body is covered in artistic tattoos that I could spend forever studying.

All four of us drop our conversation when the stylist walks in. She towers over me, mostly because she is wearing heels that are at least seven inches high. I didn't think they made heels any higher than the ones Isidora wears. Her hair is jet black and cut in a bob. It curls out in the front into delicate spirals that frame her face. She wears glasses, but they have no lenses and her eyelashes jet out past the frames. Her outfit is the strangest of all; she is covered in spikes from neck to ankle.

Alright, she looks bizarre, but I know by now that I can't judge a person's character by their appearance.

"Hello, I'm Mags," I greet her. She doesn't respond. Instead, she begins circling around me and eyeing every aspect of my unclothed body.

This continues for about a minute. Then she looks towards the prep team and says, "I think we should go with some padding over the chest."

I'm starting to feel self-conscious again. I stand uncomfortably as she launches into a heated discussion with the trio, never looking my way.

"I told Gretchen to make sure everything was there, and she let me down. The bag was missing three arms and the purple solvent. Thanks to her, I have to plan this all over again in less than twelve hours! I told her that I know people in high places, and she's going to have a bad time in the near future if she doesn't get her act together!"

"Lilith, I'm sure we can figure something out with the materials we have," Faria begins, obviously trying to console her.

I realize I need to get in this conversation now if I want to have any input in my outfit. Besides, what they've said so far really confuses me. It's pretty much a guarantee that the District Four tributes will either be fish or a mermaid-merman duo. The fish costumes range anywhere from silly to outright horrifying. One year a kid had an oversized knife stuck right between his fish hat's googly eyes to symbolize the seafood industry, but it became a sick joke when he was killed by a knife to the head only days later. I've been desperately hoping to get a mermaid outfit.

What I can't figure out is how either a mermaid or a fish costume could be missing three arms.

"What costume were you planning on using?" I ask, trying to sound helpful.

For the first time, Lilith turns towards me and speaks. "Scales aren't _in _this year. No one would be caught dead wearing them. That's why I decided to go with an octopus this time. But, apparently, that's not going to happen!" she practically spits out in anger.

Huh, this might be the only lucky thing that has happened to me since I got reaped.

It takes all my energy not to smile when I say, "Oh, that's too bad."

The prep team digs through the bag and Zia proposes dressing me as a sea goddess. Apparently, it's the only District Four-themed story book they have in the Capitol. I agree with this idea and Lilith runs off to discuss it with Kai's stylist.

"Is she always like that?" I ask my prep team as the twins begin painting patterns of waves on my nails.

"Most of the time. She isn't all that bad. You get used to it after a while," Faria answers me.

Lilith returns shortly after and pulls a large square of silky white fabric from a bag. Over the next few hours, she miraculously transforms it into some type of gown.

"Hold still," she says as she drapes the fabric over my head. The gown is long; it pools around my feet on the floor. It has long sleeves that extend to my wrists and drape down as well. It's very simple, yet beautiful.

Soma comes behind me and ties a rope belt around the smallest part of my waist so the gown doesn't hide my figure. I help him secure the knot.

Lilith begins crafting an updo, but soon changes her mind. Instead, she leaves my hair down and runs a curling iron through it so it falls in soft waves around my face. She adds a coral tiara, which she claims was originally meant for the octopus costume.

My face is covered in layers of makeup. They add blue eye shadow to accent my eyes and smear a light lavender lipstick over my lips. All in all, the costume is pretty decent. Certainly better than being dressed as a fish or an octopus.

The prep team showers my with compliments, but Lilith still looks unimpressed.

"It needs something else. Something that really says 'I represent District Four'," she says.

She approaches me and carefully paints a starfish on each side of my face. In my opinion, it's a little too much. I looked better before, but she seems satisfied now so I don't push the matter.

"All done!," the prep team chirps. "You're free to go!"

"Thank you," I reply. As I'm leaving, I remember something and turn back around. "Do you have any left over pieces of rope I can have?"

Lilith narrows her eyes. "Why?"

I wonder how I can put this into words. "It relaxes me," I begin. "Tying knots, I mean. It's rhythmic and distracting. It's how I've always dealt with stress."

Her face softens a little and I wonder if she actually feels sorry for me. "I guess it couldn't hurt to let you have one piece," she allows, and hands me a foot-long strand.

I thank her and walk out into the hallway of the Remake Center. To my surprise, Alec, Kallan, and Kai are all waiting just outside the door. I realize Kai's prep couldn't have taken nearly as long because, as a boy, he was not obligated to wear as much make-up. He is dressed as a sea god, but his white fabric mainly covers the lower half of his body. A single strand of rope goes over his shoulder and connects to the fabric. His chest is left bare.

"Nice starfish," Kai jokes as I walk towards them.

"Oh, hush," I say with a smile. "It was my stylist's _vision_."

Kallan laughs loudly at my words. He's the kind of person that is always joking and laughing. He would be a fun person to be around if he didn't talk about the Games so much.

"Not half bad," Alec says as he looks me up and down. "I was terrified that they would dress the two of you as fish, and then you would attack me for promising you would look fine."

This makes my smile again. It seems so wrong to smile when my inevitable death is quickly approaching, but I can't help it. Maybe it's better to try to enjoy my last days before the arena.

"You should be lucky they didn't," I say, even though the idea of me attacking him over something so insignificant is absurd.

Isidora meets us and directs us to the City Circle. We head over to the horse and chariot marked with the number four.

"Just remember to smile and wave," Alec reminds us. "They're going to love you." Is it just my crazy imagination, or was he looking at me when he said that? I quickly clear the thought from my head. Even if he was aiming it at me, it doesn't mean anything. This is all about impressing the people of the Capitol. I can't delude myself into thinking Alec likes me. Most of the girls at my school are obsessed with him. I was always the one to say I wouldn't fall for his charm.

Still, I can't deny that he is very attractive. I study his dark hair and tan skin as Kallan punches him lightly in the side and tells him it's time for them to clear out. Those two act just like brothers. I wonder if they care for each other like I care for Kai.

Kai nudges me in the side. "I never thought I'd see Mags Brine staring at Alec Calder like that," he says with a cocky smile. "Admit it, you were just checking him out."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, and I don't like the edge of defensiveness in my voice.

"I think you do. Come on, we're family. You can tell me."

"You're crazy," I say dismissively and turn towards the horse. I hope he will drop it.

Something in my expression must stop him from pushing it further. He leans over to me and asks, "Do you think we should go talk to the other tributes?"

I survey the other teens gathered around their chariots and frown. Just like last night, all I can think is that all but one will soon die. I don't want to think about who will kill who, and I know getting to know them won't make it any easier.

"I don't think so. We can't trust anyone but each other," I say.

A man comes by and tells us to get in the chariot because the ceremony is about to start. We climb in and steady each other as the horse begins moving. Before I know it, we are surrounded by hordes of cheering people. The roar of the crowd is so loud that I'm sure I wouldn't be able to hear Kai if he were to speak to me. It is all overwhelming at first, but then I remember Alec's instructions to smile and wave.

I keep this up until we reach President Burns' mansion. When he comes into sight, I divert my eyes from the crowd to look at him. His yellow eyes are glowing and he's smiling like he's proud of this year's stock of soon-to-be-murdered children. I've disliked him since I was little, but I make sure to keep my face happy and cheery for now. The rest of the ride goes by fast, and we end up right where we started.

Isidora comes to collect us and praises us on our form.

"My friend's tributes were just staring straight ahead like they couldn't care less. Oh, the thought of that! I'm so glad you two didn't embarrass me!"

It might sound a little selfish, but I know Isidora means well.

It takes a solid hour to scrub all the makeup off of me. The lipstick and eye shadow are particularly resistant, but I am eventually able to remove them.

At dinner, Kallan brings up strategy again. I have been dreading this, but I can't avoid it any longer. Training starts tomorrow.

I almost choke on my stew when Kai announces he plans on heading straight to the Cornucopia.

"Do you want to get yourself killed?" I practically shout. "We need to get as far away from that bloodbath as possible. We can get weapons later."

"Mags, I agree with you but how do you plan..." Alec begins, but Kai cuts him off.

"I can do it! I'm the fastest one on the athletic team at school," he says defensively.

"I thought you quit," I quickly note.

"That's just because the coach wouldn't let me play because I was too fast for everyone else! He said it made the game too boring. I thought that was idiotic of him so I quit!" he says, anger in his voice now. It doesn't phase me; we have had arguments before.

"Right," I say, rolling my eyes. "The coach made you sit out because you were just _too _good. That makes perfect sense, Kai."

He is really angry now, and Kallan has to pull him away before he does something rash like throw food at me.

Isidora shoots me a disapproving look, and my smugness dissipates. I know it's useless to fight with Kai. He's just a fifteen year old boy who wants to prove his strength. I think back to when we would fight when we were little. My mother would always pull me to the side and remind me that I have to be the mature one. I can hear her words now.

"Mags, I know what your cousin did was wrong, but you have to be the bigger person. You're older and he looks up to you," she would say as she held me close and pulled her fingers through my hair.

She was right. I should know better.

"I handled that wrong," I admit, remorse in my words. "I just don't want him to overestimate himself and end up dead. It's my job to protect him."

Alec looks in my direction very seriously and says something that makes my heart ache because I know how true it is.

"He's free to make his own choices. You can't protect him forever, Mags."


	6. Training

**A/N: Here's an extra-long chapter! Also, please review if you like this story! It's the best form of encouragement to keep writing ****J**

Knots, knots, and more knots. By the time I lay down to go to sleep, my hands are red and sore. I am much calmer now, though. My seashell is cupped in my hand for hours as my thoughts bounce between apologizing to Kai and proving myself at training tomorrow. I resort to counting backward from one thousand to silence my mind and fall asleep.

It must work because, the next thing I know, it's morning. The tension in the room at breakfast is palpable. Isidora seems to be the only one unaware of it because she is excitedly speaking about a new line of lipstick in the Capitol. I look across the table at Kai and wait for him to meet my gaze. When he finally does, he tries to quickly turn away, but I am already exploding with apologies.

"I'm sorry, Kai! I handled that completely wrong and I didn't mean to make you mad. I still think you should reconsider the going to the Cornucopia, but I promise I will discuss it calmly without starting an argument."

I have to wince as an image from last night's nightmare surfaces to my mind. All I can see is Kai getting slaughtered within seconds of the Games' start. I force myself to block it out and instead look towards him to see if he accepts my apology for hurting his pride.

"Okay," he says grudgingly. "I guess I can forgive you, but I'm still going to the Cornucopia. I need weapons to win, and I'm not going to run away because I'm too scared."

I sigh because part of me had hoped the argument would have knocked some sense into him. At least he forgives me.

"He does have a point," Kallan says as he stuffs some bacon into his mouth.

Alec gives him a glare and says, "Why don't we discuss this tonight? I think now we should talk about Training." Those green eyes have dark circles under them. I wonder if he got even less sleep than me.

Kai immediately exclaims that he wants to practice with spears and tridents. The mentors nod, then Alec turns back to me.

"What do you plan on doing?" he asks me, raising an eyebrow.

I shrug. "Maybe some nets and traps. Oh, and I can make some fishhooks. I'm pretty good at working with my hands," I say before looking down at my palms. My hands may look dainty, but they're hard and calloused from years of helping my father tie knots for nets. Nothing like the soft, smooth hands of most girls at my school.

"That's a good start, but what about weapons?" he asks.

I can see concern form in his features when I hesitate to answer. "I…I don't really think…I can kill anybody," I finally get out. It's a shame that I'm ashamed of not wanting to murder children, but I can't help but notice how pathetic it makes me sound. Ever since my father told me to not forget what I stand for, I have been wondering if this is what he meant. Will he be disappointed if I'm forced to kill an innocent? Or does me fighting to return home override that?

I see Isidora and Kallan exchange a glance and both of them subtlety shake their heads. It makes me a little mad, but more something else I can't place. Betrayed? I thought they at least had a little hope in me.

"Let's say another tribute runs at you with a knife. You have a knife, too. Do you defend yourself or let them kill you, knowing your family has to watch?" Alec asks carefully.

"I can defend myself," I answer honestly. "I'm just not going to go out of my way to eliminate other players."

There's no mistaking how relieved he looks. "Good, then you need to be able to use a weapon, just in case. Focus on survival skills at Training, but make sure you have a way to defend yourself."

"I'm pretty decent at using knives," I say, and judging by everyone's relief, this seems to be the right answer.

Thirty minutes later, Isidora is taking Kai and I down an elevator that leads to the Training Room. The only other Districts here so far are Two, Five, and Eleven. We are expected to wait until the others arrive to begin working at stations.

I look around the room in wonder. There's pretty much every weapon I can think of: axes, bows, knives, swords, spears, and tridents. Every weapon except the guns only Peacekeepers are allowed to carry. I even see slingshots in a corner station.

Then, of course, there are equally as many stations for survival. Those are the ones I plan on working with for the greater part of the day. I exchange a few words with Kai, but its clear he would rather go straight to weapons. Maybe it will be better that way. If we are going to be a team, it could work to our advantage to have one person skilled with weapons and the other an expert on survival.

The first station I visit is knots. I breeze through it with no effort, and the instructor seems really impressed. I can feel the eyes of other tributes on my back, probably trying to evaluate if I am a threat.

Fishing, hammock making, and shelters are just as easy. I can even make a few basic snares. Technically, I have never trained for the Hunger Games, but my experience in Four definitely works to my advantage. I begin to feel more confident, like I am not as helpless as I thought I was.

I am smaller than a majority of the tributes, but I am healthy. My ribs don't show like some of the kids from poor districts. I have no experience, but I am skilled. And maybe, just maybe, I can be a victor.

That one thought triggers the clash of reality. Me winning means Kai must die. Could I outlast him, even when he is clearly more athletic? Do I even want to? Thinking about it makes me feel like my heart is being jabbed, so I move onto edible plants and insects.

I am not as much as an expert here as I was in the other stations, but I put forth serious effort to learn. By finding things in common with the things that are edible, I can learn what to avoid.

I've just moved to fire-making and have thus far been unsuccessful when Kai approaches me. I look up and smile until I realize he has three other tributes with him. It's the boy from One and both tributes from Two.

The boy from One introduces me to all of them. "I'm Osten, and this is Blade and Kim," he says, motioning towards the others. "We met your friend and he said the two of you were interested in joining our alliance."

That is something I definitely never said, but I can't tell them that. They would hunt me down for sure. "Oh, yeah, you're Districts usually dominate the Games. It's something we'll definitely have to consider," I say, trying my best to sound friendly but noncommittal.

The tall girl from Two, Kim, speaks up. "Four's already won twice, too. Most districts don't even have a victor yet. Kai's pretty strong and he said you were good with knots."

"Well, I've been practicing my whole life."

The three of them smile. "Good," Osten says. "We've all been training, too."

Training? Wait, no, they've misunderstood. I don't correct them, though.

It's time for lunch, so I am stuck sitting with them. We sit in a group of five at a table and talk about our strengths and training. Osten and Kim are both bigger than me. They have to be seventeen or eighteen. Blade, the boy from Two, is younger, maybe fourteen, but he is just as strong and confident as the other two. Kai fits in well with this group. After all, they are all volunteers.

I quickly pick up on a few things. First, they seem to be genuinely excited about the Games. Blade and Kim go to a training school that opened almost two years ago. It's called The Career School of Combat Training, so they refer to themselves as careers. It's a term I've never heard of before. They are building a similar school in One, but Osten has never been to it. Still, he says that training all his life permits him to call himself a career as well.

I also notice that they hold some kind of grudge against the girl from One. They make cruel jokes about her several times in the conversation and eventually point her out to me. She is sitting awkwardly with the group from Five, as far away from us as possible. It's hard to piece together exactly what happened, but I'm fairly sure it has to do with her not wanting to be part of the alliance. If I remember correctly, she did not volunteer.

After lunch, the five of us head over to weapons. They go straight for the spears and swords and tridents, but I settle for a knife. As a result of years of gutting fish, I'm not bad at it. It's a little harder to throw it distances with accuracy, but, by the end of the day, I've made good progress. The "careers" are not bad company, but I only trust them as far as I can throw them. And, considering they all weigh over fifty pounds more than me, that's not much at all.

Kai brings this up on the walk back to the elevator. "You don't seem very happy about our alliance," he whispers.

I keep my face straight and whisper back, "Was it that obvious?"

"No," he says. "But I know you, and I can tell when you're really excited. You weren't today."

"Kai, we shouldn't trust them. Four has never allied with One and Two before. We'll be the first ones to get our throats slit while we sleep."

"Come on, Mags! We can leave them before that happens, I promise! It's our best chance to get further in the game." His whispers are becoming a bit too loud for comfort.

"Okay, I'll think about it," I say to mollify him.

"Sounds good. When have I ever been wrong?"

We laugh then, because both of us know the answer to that.

Back on the fourth floor, Isidora invites us to come watch some Capitol programming with her while we wait for the mentors to return. I pull a blanket over me, making sure to keep my feet on the floor so Isidora won't reprimand me. The program involves interviewing people around the Capitol to gauge the excitement for this year's Hunger Games. I'm a little surprised when I see Alec on the screen.

But it's not him. It's his body and his voice, but not his personality. It's the Alec I'm used to seeing on television at home; the one I've never cared for. He is still attractive, but there's a level of cockiness and arrogance in his voice. Everything he says is in praise of the Capitol or the lovely citizens who live there. He even pulls over some ladies on the street and kisses them. I've only known Alec for a few days, but I know that's not who he is. The Alec I know is thoughtful and a little sarcastic. I know- or at least I think- he really cares about what happens to me and Kai in the arena. For whatever reason, it bothers me that he's acting like someone else. The real him is good enough.

About an hour later, I am laying alone in my room, thinking of home. What would my family be doing right now? I guess Marilla and Hallie are on there way home from school. My father and my uncle are probably working. It's harder to guess about my mother and my aunt. They might be spending a lot of time together and consoling each other. Or they might keep their distance because they both want their child to be the victor, and that would make it very awkward.

I barely notice when there's a little knock on the door and Alec sticks his head in.

"Kallan and I decided its better to talk to you individually for now. We can coordinate strategies later. Can I come in?" he asks softly.

"Of course," I say in response. I pull myself into a sitting position and pat the spot next to me on the fluffy white comforter. He walks over, but instead of climbing on the bed, he sits on the edge, half turned away from me. Then he pulls a little bag out his pocket and hands it to me.

Sugar cubes. It's kind of ridiculous how excited I am about this. I thank him as I plop three into my mouth. He laughs a little in response.

"I knew you would like those," he says. He shuffles a bit and turns more toward me. "Just so we're on the same page, tell me what you're plan is for the Games."

Even the sweet taste of sugar can't help the way my mouth tightens and dries up in response.

"Well, I would have Kai as an ally, preferably till the final four. Then it would be best to say goodbye and separate." I have to pause and take a deep breath before I continue.

"As soon as the gong sounds, I plan for us to run as far away as possible, or at least until we find a source of water to camp by. We'll camouflage ourselves and set up camp and traps, maybe carve some knives out of wood. Then I guess we'll just hide out for as long as possible and see what happens from there. It's impossible to predict what the Gamemakers have in store."

Alec nods in agreement. "It must be hard for you and Kai to agree on that. You two have completely different personalities and ideas."

"Don't I know it," I say. "He's trying to make us ally with the Careers."

"Careers?" he asks, sounding genuinely confused. I forgot he wasn't familiar with the term.

"It's the name of the training school in Two. Now they're using it to describe anyone who has trained for the Games." I look towards him and ask, "You don't think it's a good idea for us to join them, do you?"

He looks off to the other side of the room in thought. "It has its pros and cons," he says finally. "It will provide you with much more security at the Games' start, but then you run the risk of being killed in your sleep as the numbers dwindle. If you do ally with them, clear out the second you start distrusting them."

That could be hard to tell, considering I hardly trust them at all. "How will I know?"

"Just trust your instincts," he says. We are both quiet for a few minutes as I let that sink in.

I can tell Alec is reluctant to say the next thing that comes out of his mouth. "If what Kai wants conflicts with your instincts, it would be best for you to leave him rather than endanger yourself."

"What!" I ask in disbelief. "I can't just abandon Kai! He's my cousin! What would my family think?" I swallow hard and answer my own question. "They'd hate me and I'd hate myself. I can't do it."

Alec looks to be at a loss for words. I'm shocked that he would think I could abandon my family so easily, but I'm not exactly mad, even though I feel like I should be.

"I knew that wouldn't work, but it was worth a shot." he muses. "I really am sorry though. I've never had siblings or cousins, so I don't know what it's like to be in that position. All I know is that my survival was the top priority when I was in the arena, and I can't imagine anything strong enough to change that."

The tension in the room is thick and we are both looking away from each other in silence. I think Alec is about to get up and leave when he suddenly changes the subject. "Last night you said something about finding weapons some other way than the Cornucopia. What did you mean by that?"

That stumps me for a second because I really didn't have anything in mind when I said that. I think about it for a minute and come up with an alternative way to get weapons that has so many flaws, its kind of embarrassing to say.

"When two armed tributes fight, there's usually some time between one being disarmed and a canon being fired. The one who wins the fight is too preoccupied with finishing off the victim to pay any attention to the weapon for a minute. If I could grab it without being noticed and escape, I would have a weapon." I'm embarrassed its really bad, so I add, "It's a little risky."

"Maybe a little too risky," he says, "but very clever. You might just be able to outsmart the rest of them, Magnolia."

"My full name!" I say in mock astonishment. "Why, I thought you said 'good' when I said you didn't have to use it!" I joke.

"If I remember correctly, that's not why I was saying 'good'," he says, and then he's smiling with his teeth and they look so white and perfect against his tan skin.

The perfection of it throws me off, but I finally recover enough to answer him. "Well it appears one of us has a bad memory," I say, trying my best to sound serious, but the edges of my mouth curl up within seconds.

Alec laughs at that. "I hope you can pull of a more serious face if you have to lie to other tributes!"

"I can," I say eagerly. "It seems like it's just with you I feel like smiling." I freeze immediately after saying that, mentally berating myself for not thinking before I speak. I'm scared to look at him to see his reaction.

He just looks intrigued. I clear my throat nervously and say, "Alec, can I ask you a question?"

"Isn't that what I'm here for?"

"When I see you on T.V., you're like a different person. I just want to know why."

He definitely looks taken aback. I'm starting to regret asking when he says, "Oh, you noticed that?…If you want to know the truth…" he trails off and looks around the room suspiciously. Then he does something strange.

He crawls under the covers and motions for me to join him.

I feel like a small child in a blanket fort like the ones I used to build with my cousins. Under here, I'm very close to Alec's face, and his green eyes are only inches from my blue ones. I can feel his warm breath on my skin, and that has my heart beating like crazy.

"You be whoever the Capitol wants you to be," he finally confesses.

"But you're a victor. They've done enough to you; they can't tell you who to be." A new thought occurs to me. "Are they watching us now?" I whisper.

"Possibly. Probably. That's why we're under here," he says quietly. "Oh, and unfortunately that's just the way it works," he says, answering my previous statement.

"I like the real you better. They would be lucky to know you," I say, and I hope he knows how much I mean it.

He's shocked again. "Really?" he asks.

Just then, a door opens and we both freeze, certain that some Capitol official has overheard our conversation and is here to get us. But then we hear Isidora's voice and we poke just our heads out of the covers.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!" she says, pink hair swinging as she stumbles back into the dresser before turning around and running out.

As soon as we realize what this must have looked like to her, we laugh and laugh and laugh until we are bent over and our sides hurt.

We must be quite a scene.


	7. Scores

**A/N: I want to give a shout-out to VividlyCloudyDreams, who has been loyally reviewing every time I update. Also, I realized I never put a disclaimer. I do not own the Hunger Games or Mags, but I do own the rest of the characters so far.**

The next day of training follows the same basic routine as the first. After breakfast, Isidora leads us down to the Training room. Kai and I meet up with the careers and practice with weapons and fighting. I perfect my knife-throwing and pick up some basic sword skills. The others use spears, tridents, and axes, but all are a little bulky and heavy for me to use with ease.

I quickly learn my size also disadvantages me in weightlifting and hand-to-hand combat. Despite this, I am able to learn a good choke hold from the instructor in the latter department. Kai, Osten, Kim, Blade, and I sit together at lunch again. I get to know them better, but I still don't trust them.

When my cousin and I greet them in the morning, Osten throws an arm around me and says, "Good to see you, Mags!" At lunch Kim comments something along the lines of, "We've got it- final five right here!" Kai seems excited when they say things like this, amounting it to the fact that they are trustworthy, but I notice something else that really bothers me.

It's the way only the muscles in their mouths move rather than their whole face. It's the way their eyes dart either down or to the left when I talk to them. The subtle body language of a liar.

I think back to a sunny morning in District Four that must have been nearly five years ago. That morning, I woke up at my aunt's house after spending the night. Kai and Marilla were still sleeping, but little Hallie was already awake. We walked out onto the tiled floor of the kitchen and sat in a chair that faced the counter. I pulled Hallie into my lap as I asked my aunt what she was making for breakfast.

"Fried oysters. Do you like those? I could always make something else if you don't want it," she said kindly.

"No, that's fine. I like oysters," I lied. Truthfully, I hated oysters and could not get past the slimy texture, but I didn't want to incovenience my aunt in any way.

My uncle, who was putting on his boots and preparing to go out to his boat, walked over towards me and scooped Hallie up.

"Make some rolls," he said. "Mags is lying. She's just trying to be polite."

I looked at him in amazement, but when I opened my mouth, I said, "No, really, it's okay."

"Nonsense," my uncle said as he hoisted Hallie onto his shoulders. "Let me let you in on a secret, Mags. It's something that has helped me get far in life."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Being able to spot a lie. Sometimes its easy to read people and sometimes its difficult, but body language will always give them away. They'll try to turn away or force a smile. An even easier way to tell is the eyes. A liar can't look you in the eye."

"They say eyes are the portal to the soul," my aunt chimed in. "A person can fake an expression, but their eyes will always say what they're feeling."

I believe that, even now. A person can lie, but eyes can't. Body language can't. It's subconscious.

I can see it immediately in both Osten and Kim. Blade is a bit harder to read. He is usually quiet around me, but him and Kai are good friends. They are the youngest in our group and share an interest in spears. Maybe its just his similarity to Kai, but I find myself trusting him slightly more than the other two.

I'm scared of getting too close to One and Two. I don't want to be obligated to ally with them in the arena, but something tells me my free choice has already dissipated. After lunch, I say I want to go work on survival skills by myself. Reluctant to leave the combat stations, they agree. I head back over to fire-making and camouflage.

Every few minutes, I look around the room to see what others are doing. There are a few others besides those in my group who are decent with weapons, but most of the tributes look like lost sheep. I see a scared twelve year old sitting by himself in a corner, and the girl from Twelve hurt herself in the obstacle course and is crying. I feel so bad for them, but I know there's nothing that I can do.

A few minutes later, I notice the girl from One struggling in the knots station. I do a quick sweep of the room and see the careers and Kai are occupied with target practice. Curiosity wins over me and I walk over to the girl.

"It helps if you double knot it for more support. My name's Mags," I say, crafting a knot for demonstration.

She copies my actions and ends up with a much better knot. Her eyes meet mine with caution. Tributes from One usually have hair so blond that its almost white and bright blue eyes. Osten fits this description, but this girl's hair is more of a golden brown, like mine, and her eyes are a deep hazel.

"Why are you helping me? I thought you were friends with Osten and District Two," she says in a way that sounds accusatory.

"I'm not sure if you could call us friends," I admit. "It wasn't exactly my choice to join the group." Once again, I scan the room to make sure the others don't see me talking to their sworn enemy. Then I add, "What exactly happened between all of you, anyway?"

Her expression relaxes a bit. "I lost a brother about seven years back to these Games. I told Osten that training and volunteering is just asking for death, and he got really offended. It's fine though; I want nothing to do with that group anyway."

She looks hard into my face, trying to see if she has offended me as well.

"I understand," I comment. "Honestly, I feel the same way. I don't understand how anyone could want to volunteer. Sure, you win money and food for the district, but it's not really worth your life." After a moment, I add, "Sorry about your brother, by the way."

She nods towards me. "Sometimes I feel like I got picked because my brother died, like they're giving my family a second chance or something. That probably sounds crazy, though."

"You don't sound crazy. It's possible," I say, remembering how Alec said the Capitol controls everything. I wouldn't put it past them to rig the reaping.

"You're not like Osten and Kim," she says, studying me hard again. "Why don't you just leave them?"

"It's complicated," I murmur. She still looks expectant, so I add, "Half the reason is my district partner. The other half is I know they will hunt me down if I refuse the alliance."

"That's true," she says with a frown. "Take it from me. I'm Crystal, by the way."

It's good to have a name to call her by besides 'the girl from One'. When I look up again, I see the careers are finishing with their practice and know its time to make my exit.

"I have to go now. I'm really sorry you're in this position because you don't deserve it at all. Good luck in the Games," I say, giving her a small smile before I walk away.

"Thanks. Good luck to you, too, Mags." Unlike Osten and Kim, she looks me in the eyes when she says it.

The afternoon progresses normally. I notice that Isidora keeps shooting Alec and I strange glances from across the living area. She must be wondering about what happened last night when she walked in on us under the covers. We only poked our heads out, so she had no way of knowing we were fully clothed. Besides, we can't exactly explain to her that we were discussing something the Capitol isn't supposed to hear.

Alec walks towards me and deliberately brushes against me. I freeze in confusion until he whispers something in my ear.

"Let's juice this for all it's worth," he purrs.

Isidora has really never done anything to me to deserve us playing a trick on her, but it's too tempting to resist. I nod swiftly and say, "You're right. Last night was incredible."

"Do you want a repeat tonight? We can go to your room after dinner."

"Oh, I look forward to it."

The expression on Isidora's face is priceless. For once, she doesn't say anything. Within seconds, she has pulled a fashion magazine up to cover her gaping mouth. It's obvious that she's trying to listen in for whatever we say next.

I start giggling. Alec directs us over to the sofa and pulls me onto his lap. My heartbeat picks up and I feel like there are butterflies in my stomach, even though I know this is just a prank. It amazes me how Alec can keep a straight face, but then I remember he's been acting since he won his Games. I'm either about to mess this up with laughter or embarrass myself with real blushing, so I bury my face into his shoulder. Just before I do, I catch Isidora's bewildered eyes peering around the magazine.

"I can't take this any longer," Alec says, and I think he's talking about keeping up the joke, but then he scoops me up and runs to my room. When he dumps me on the bed, we both have to use the covers to muffle our laughter.

"That was genius!" I say between laughs.

"It certainly was," he agrees. "But we really should talk strategy now."

"Boo, strategy," I say, making a face like I just tasted a bad food. It's no use though, because the Hunger Games are very real and quickly approaching, and no amount of laughing and playing jokes can change that.

We talk a little about my meeting with the girl from One, but we don't reach any conclusion on what I should do. He leaves me with the vague advice to "trust my instincts" before we transition to talking about the private Gamemaker session. I'm not too worried about scores. My main concern is how to follow my instinct to break away from the careers and run and hide away with Kai. I'm pretty sure it's impossible.

All too soon, the next morning has arrived. We go about our normal training until lunch. From that point on, tributes are called individually for their private sessions. Osten is the first to go, followed by Crystal. As soon as Blade and Kim are gone, Kai turns toward me expectantly.

"So…you and Alec Calder. I told you I knew," he says smugly. Isidora must have said something while we were in my room because we made no effort to continue the charade at dinner or breakfast.

"It was a joke," I say quickly, then attempt to change the subject. "What are you going to show the Gamemakers?"

"Weight-lifting and spear-throwing, but that's beside the point. We were talking about you."

"It really was a joke," I say again, a little more aggressively this time. "We were trying to get a reaction out of Isidora and I guess it worked, considering she told you and Kallan."

He thinks about that. "So it really was a prank.." I wonder if he's disappointed or something, but then he grins widely. "I wish I could've seen that!"

"Yeah, it was really something."

Soon, District Three has finished and Kai is called. I wait patiently for about fifteen minutes before my name is called.

The Gamemakers are on a platform above the Training Center, and all of them are looking towards me expectantly.

"Magnolia Brine from District Four," I introduce myself, then ponder over whether I should have used my nickname. "I go by Mags," I add awkwardly before walking over to the knot tying station. I take out several lengths of rope and effortlessly craft a body-sized net and a noose. Then I walk over to the knife-throwing station and hurl several blades at life-size dummies. All but one of them pierce critical areas marked by red. The one that missed embarrassingly flew past the dummy completely, and I hope it doesn't affect my score too much.

By the time I finish, my hands are trembling slightly out of nervousness, but a majority of the Gamemakers are nodding in approval.

"You may be dismissed," the one who must be the Head Gamemaker tells me.

I nod and walk out the room. Already, I'm beginning to stress and second guess myself. Maybe they wanted to see me use a variety of weapons. I should have shown that I can make a fishhook out of almost anything. I have to repeat to myself that it's over and I've done all I can do. All that's left is to hope for the best.

Kai and Isidora are waiting for me at the elevator. As we ride to our floor, Kai asks about how it went while Isidora avoids eye contact completely. The latter cheers me up as I tell the account to Kai.

Our stylists join us that night as we crowd around the T.V. and wait for scores to be announced. Apparently, the score I get will help determine the outfit I will be wearing at the Interview. We have to make sure the way we are portrayed matches up with what the sponsors have seen from the training scores. I plop down between Kai and Lilith and begin squirming out of both nervousness and excitement.

"Would you keep still?" Lilith shouts at me.

"Sorry, I'll try" I say. I've pretty much accepted the fact that Lilith is moody all the time. Who knows, maybe she is able to focus or design better when she's angry. Even now, her lips are formed into a small pout as she stares at the screen through her glasses.

The Capitol logo decorates the screen and Nathaniel Flickerman appears. Every year, he dyes his skin a different color for the Games. This year, it's red. The red is soft enough to where it isn't too overbearing, but it still looks like he has a very painful sunburn. Somehow, Capitol fashion doesn't surprise me anymore. As always, his hair is jet black and he wears a golden suit.

After a brief introduction, pictures of tributes and scores begin appearing on the television. I'm not surprised when Osten pulls a ten. Crystal follows behind him with a six. Blade and Kim get an eight and nine, respectively.

I inhale sharply as Three is being shown. I figure Kai will score high, but what should I be hoping for? Will I need a high score to impress the careers, or will a lower score get them off my back?

There isn't much time to think. Kai appears on screen next to a ten, and then I see an eight accompanying my name and picture. I let out the breath I had been holding in relief. Eight and ten are good scores. I almost don't notice that my name is listed as "Mags Brine". I'm glad I said something earlier.

Everyone in the room congratulates us. I am extremely happy until it hits me. Scores are out, which means the Interview is very soon. And then after that…

I've been tricking my mind into thinking I have a full week until the Games begin. Those days are quickly ticking away. I will be in the arena in two and a half days.

And I still don't have a plan.


	8. Interview

**A/N: Long chapter! The Games are about to start. Let me know what you think!**

The next day, I desperately need to talk to Kai alone, but Isidora has me busy from the second I wake up. I'm still rubbing my eyes as they adjust to the light when she orders me out of bed and leads me to the kitchen. We are the only two there.

"I'm going shopping later, so I wanted to get the sessions done as soon as possible. I allowed Kallan to bring a tray of food to the boy so we won't be interrupted. Of course, he probably would have taken the food anyway. I just can't seem to get him to eat at the table," she babbles.

"Hold on," I stop her. "What session?"

"I'm teaching you presentation for the next four hours in preparation for your interview tomorrow night. After that, you'll eat lunch and I'll trade you over to Alec while I instruct Kai." Her voice raises just a bit when she says "trade you over to Alec." She must still be suspicious of the relationship we fabricated to play a prank on her.

I nod and sink my teeth into some delicious ham and fried eggs as she begins her lecture. I'm still sipping my frothy hot chocolate when she motions for me to come see. In her hands is a frilly pink bag from what must be a very expensive store. She pulls out a pair of golden five-inch heels that have various jewels embedded in them.

"Put these on and practice walking," Isidora instructs. She then retires over to a chair and watches me expectantly.

It's a more daunting task than it seems. I immediately feel wobbly when I stand up, and I have to clutch the sofa for support. After several minutes, I am able to walk around shakily without falling down. That in itself seems like a huge accomplishment. I smile at Isidora triumphantly.

She just looks unimpressed. "Mags, sweetie, that isn't graceful at all. At least you're at a respectable height now."

I'm pretty sure I would rather be short and able to walk than average-to-tall with a broken ankle.

"Can we downgrade it a few inches? I think I could handle that much better," I say, trying to muster up a look that will make her take pity on me.

"Sorry, but you need the height. Shortness is undesirable," she says dismissively.

I give an aggravated sigh. It takes two and a half hours for me to master walking normally with the five-inch monstrosities. When I do, Isidora presents me with a new challenge: Walk without looking down at my feet.

It's a disaster.

"Oh dear," Isidora says, bringing her palm to her face as if I am the biggest disgrace she has ever seen. I'm really getting annoyed now, but I force myself to stay quiet. We eventually work out a compromise. I can look down at my feet every so often as long as I spend a majority of the time making eye contact, smiling, and waving.

The shoes are not my only challenge. According to my escort, I sit like a man, so I am forced to endure a lecture about crossing my legs. Putting my hands to the side and tugging on my dress nervously is by no means acceptable, either. My smile doesn't look genuine enough. I don't cup my hands the proper amount when I wave. Everything I do is wrong.

My heels are screaming in protest and I feel exhausted by the time the four hours are up. My good mood has been extinguished as well. I'm taken by surprise when Isidora leans over and hugs me, considering she criticized my every action.

"Thank you for being so well behaved and patient," she says. "It really was a relief. You should have seen the girl last year. She didn't listen to a thing I said. And the language she used towards me, oh, it was awful!"

"No problem," I say, unsurely now. I'm starting to regret all the nasty thoughts I kept to myself during the session. Her comment about last year's girl reminds me of something Alec told me, though. He explained that he was mad when we first met because his tribute last year didn't even pretend to acknowledge his help and he thought I might do the same. I don't see the point in that at all. Four is one of the few districts lucky enough to even have victors to mentor tributes. Why not listen to the advice of someone who actually won the Games?

Thinking about Alec reminds me it's almost time for my session with him. Surely it will be an improvement over this. Isidora is really in a hurry to get done with Kai and go to some store, so she orders a servant to pull together two plates of lunch and sends me on my way to Alec's room.

When I walk in, Alec's hair is dripping wet and there's a crumbled towel on the floor, so I assume he just got out of the shower.

"I've got lunch!" I announce and bring the food over to the bed. His room looks a lot like mine, except it's messier and there's more of a feeling of permanence. There are some personal belongings scattered about the room. Technically, this room has been his home for about a month every year for the past three years. I am just a temporary guest in my own room.

We sit on his bed and eat for a while. When we finish our trays, I look up and ask what's planned for the next few hours.

"I'm supposed to work with you on content for the interview. Basically, we need to figure out how to portray you and then practice with some basic questions. Don't worry, I already thought out your angle," he says proudly.

"Well it better be good for you to decide without my input," I say with a smile.

"It will be. At first I was thinking we should go the sweet route, but I think you have a lot more potential than that. I think we should go with kind and trustworthy, but also smart and resourceful. That way, sponsors will be interested and whoever you decide to ally with might trust you more."

"You really did think this out," I note, amazed. It seems like I should have been giving some degree of thought to this. I'm lucky to have a mentor who takes care of things. "I like that a lot more than sexy or brutal."

"Those just aren't you," he says. Then, like the first night on the train, he assumes he has insulted me and tries to quickly fix damage that isn't even there. "I didn't mean that you can't pull off sexy. You're not bad looking at all; I'm sure you could do it. You're actually really pretty, I just think that if you went there, you would have to act for them, and I don't want you to have to be someone you're not…"

"Like you have to act for them," I finish for him. "Don't worry, I know exactly what you mean."

When he was fumbling for words, I wanted to say something light that would make us smile and laugh, but my words came out serious. It is serious. I still don't like that the Capitol has some form of control over his life. I know he doesn't like it either.

It occurs to me then that I might have said something I shouldn't have. What if someone heard that and they punish Alec for telling me. I can see the caution in his green eyes, but he mouths, "I think it's okay." Then he changes the subject by posing a series of questions for me to answer. They are pretty generic and not hard to respond to, but I know it will be much harder on the stage with the whole country watching.

That goes on for about an hour before we fall into other conversation. I tell him I have decided who I want to ally with, but I need to talk with Kai before it can become definite. Eventually, we are both lying on our backs on the big white bed and talking about our lives. He asks a lot about my family and I'm glad to answer his questions, but I can't help but notice he dodges a lot of my questions about his family. Despite this, I do learn some things about him. He likes to draw, and he's had a lot of time to explore his talent since he won the Hunger Games. He has a wiry-haired dog at home named Russ that he takes out on his boat. He's hopeless at cooking anything besides fried fish.

I laugh at the last part. "I'll just have to cook for you when I win!" I exclaim. Immediately, I am astounded by the confidence I had when I said that, then dismayed when I realize I most likely won't be returning.

Seconds later, there's a knock on the door and Kallan walks in. "Alec, man, you realize the session ended an hour ago, right?"

"It did?" we ask simultaneously and look at the clock on the nightstand. Sure enough, I have been in here for over five hours. Then I realize this is my chance to speak to Kai.

"I have to go talk to my cousin!" I say, and then I am running past Kallan and down the hallway. I'm grateful that Isidora isn't here to tell me not to run indoors. I spent the greater part of last night trying to figure out whether or not to ally with the careers, and it was very late when I reached a conclusion. I need to talk with Kai now because our alone time before the Games is running out.

When I burst into his room, I slam the door open a little too hard, and it leaves a small dent in the wall. I'll pretend I never saw that.

"Kai! I need to tell you something!" I exclaim, but there is no reply. My eyes scan the room, and I spot him curled up in bed. Asleep. Apparently my crash into his room did nothing to awake him.

This could be tricky. Kai has slept through hurricanes before. I jump on his bed, pinch him, and yell in his ear, all to no avail. Finally, I resort to pouring cold water on his face, making sure to put a towel under him first.

As soon as the water hits his face, Kai jumps up in confusion. "Mags? What was that for?" he booms angrily.

"You wouldn't wake up," I reply. I wonder for a moment how Isidora wakes him up in the morning.

"Is it time for dinner?" he asks, and I swear his whole face brightens.

"Not yet," I admit. "Sorry about the water, but I really need to talk to you about alliances."

He pulls himself into a sitting position and the anger in his blue eyes is exchanged for confusion.

"What's there to figure out?" he asks. "We're careers now. Of course we're allying with them."

"That's the thing," I say quietly, twisting the sheets apprehensively. "I don't think that's a good idea. I can tell when I talk to them that they're lying about going to the final five. I think they just want to use us to get past the Cornucopia. I'm telling you, we're going to end up with knives in our backs."

"They use spears, not knives," he says in response, and I can feel anger bubbling inside of me.

"You're missing the point, Kai! I'm trying to say I don't trust them! I spoke with Crystal, the girl from One, and I would much rather team up with her."

His reply is immediate. "Are you crazy, Mags? I can't believe you even talked to her! We're already with the careers, and she's the first one they're tracking down. They would track us down, too! That idea is probably the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"

I can't help but feel offended. I'm two seconds away from countering that the dumbest thing I've ever heard is when he said he quit the athletic team because he was too good for everyone else, but I find the strength to restrain myself. Instead, I speak to him through clenched teeth.

"Kai, you have to trust me. I want to keep both of us alive for as long as possible, and every instinct is telling me not to go with One and Two."

"Well you can't make me ally with the girl from One," he says, folding his arms defiantly.

"Fine," I allow. "Let's compromise, then. What about no alliances? We can stick together because we know we won't kill each other. No one else can be trusted."

He looks a little less mad now, but still not sold on my idea. "What about the careers? We can't just leave them alone."

"We have to. There can't be five winners. We'll just have to hide from them so they don't track us down. If we run while they head for the Cornucopia, we'll have a big head start. Especially since you're so fast."

"I am pretty fast." I can tell he is playing out the idea in his mind. "I don't know, but I'll think about it," he finally states. It's the best I can hope for.

The next day, the prep team has me up bright and early. I realize how much I've missed their company the past few days. Faria and Zia keep up a steady conversation with me, and Soma interjects every now and then. It still amazes me how they can completely transform my appearance with a few lotions and powders. The twins are painting my nails with the same wave designs I had for the Opening Ceremonies when Lilith steps into the room with my outfit.

It's an aqua dress that shimmers with glitter. The different colors remind me of the way the ocean sparkles in the distance. Faria helps me into it, and I notice that it falls just above my knees. Lilith explains that she wanted it much shorter, but had to settle for this length because we weren't going for sexy. I'm a little nervous about the dress exposing my feet because I'm not confident in my ability to walk gracefully in the five-inch heels they have provided me, but the prep team squeeze my hands and assure me that I will be fine.

By the end of the day, my blondish brown hair is done up in a complicated up-do that is far beyond my hair-styling capabilities. Lilith adds a seashell clip and some more mascara to my eyelashes before declaring I am ready. I have one more suggestion.

"I have a little orange seashell as my token," I say. "Do you think I can wear it on a necklace? I want my father to see I kept it."

Lilith narrows her eyes at me when I show her the shell and tries to protest that it's too small to look decent as a necklace, but the twins finally talk her into it. When I look at myself in the mirror, I can't help but smile.

"It's beautiful," I say honestly. "You are all very talented." The prep team gushes in excitement over that.

My smile is gone an hour later when I'm lined up to go out on stage. I have to grip Kai's shoulder because I suddenly feel very shaky and nervous. I don't want to go out in front of the entire country and make a fool of myself. It doesn't help that I know the only reason these people want to get to know me is so they can bet on my death and choose who to sponsor. It's all a money ploy created by the Capitol.

No matter how much I want to freeze time, it does move and, before I know it, we are all walking onto a stage in front of City Circle. The first thing I notice is the brightness. It's like waking up to a bright light; your first instinct is to close your eyes as they try to adjust. This is no place to close my eyes, though. I am relieved when I make it across the stage without tripping and sit down between the District Three boy and Kai.

Nathaniel Flickerman takes the stage, and the lights make his skin look even redder than it had on the T.V. screen. He warms the audience up for a few minutes before calling over Crystal. At that point, nervousness and stress takes over. I can feel the knots in my stomach again, and I wish I had my rope to relax me. My hands feel strange and empty. I can barely resist the urge to run them through my hair or tug on my dress as I nervously play out scenarios of Nathaniel questioning me in my head. No, I have to sit like a lady with my legs crossed and my hands idle in my lap.

I'm stressing so much that I'm barely aware of the interviews before me. I can tell that Crystal is humble and Osten is brutal. Kim is sly and Blade is determined. The girl from Three is painfully shy, and the boy is likable. These smaller details of their interviews pass right over my head.

I jump a bit when I hear Nathaniel call my name, and I can't remember a time when I ever felt more self-conscious as I walk across the stage.

Nathaniel greets me with a smile. "Magnolia Brine, it's a pleasure to meet you. I hear you go by Mags."

Words fail me, so I respond with a nod. This isn't good. I need to talk.

"So Mags, how are you feeling about this year's Hunger Games?"

Alec and I practiced this one. I clear my throat hard and force words to exit my mouth. "I…I think it will be a year to remember. Living in Four all my life has allowed me to pick up some skills that can help me in the arena, so I think I stand a pretty decent chance."

Nathaniel nods and looks out to the audience. "Do you hear that? Something tells me this girl will go far!" The audience cheers some in response.

"Mags, I'd like to get to know you a little better as a person. What do you value most?"

Alec and I didn't practice this one, but it is easy enough to answer. "Family," I say confidently.

He laughs and nods. "Indeed! Family is very important. My wife and I just got married, and we are enthusiastic about starting a family of our own very soon."

"Family will always love you no matter what mistakes you make," I add. I want to look back at Kai and make the big reveal that we are family, but I think he wanted to do that. It was his mentor's idea to announce that we're cousins here so no one will forget us.

"Very true! I'm sure your family is very proud," Nathaniel replies. "I have one last question for you. What is it like to have Alec Calder as your mentor? After all, we've all heard the rumors!"

"R-r-rumors?" I ask. This is completely outside of what I prepared for.

"I don't want to give anything away," he laughs, "but it involves a bed!"

Suddenly, it clicks in. Isidora must have told her escort friends, and they told everyone they knew. This can't be happening.

"No, it was just...uh…we were...um…this isn't…um…uh…no," I babble and my face flushes red from embarrassment. It's the worst feeling to not be able to communicate. I'm lucky that this is only a temporary lapse in my speaking abilities because I can't imagine living a life where no one understands me.

Nathaniel laughs and the audience laughs with him. I look out into the crowd and see Alec sitting with the other victors. I try to apologize with my eyes because I messed up his strategy. He must take it as a plea for help because he stands up and commands attention. The cameras head straight to him.

"Nathaniel, there is no reason to doubt Mags. She is good to the core and very trustworthy. We were only playing a prank on our escort, Isidora Satin." My muscles automatically relax in relief. Then Alec speaks up again. "Besides, I wouldn't lie if I had slept with her. Look at her; she's hot!" he says.

This makes me feel bad all over again. The audience cheers but they are cheering for the wrong reason because that isn't the real Alec. That's the Capitol Alec. The real one is so much better.

A buzzer goes off and Nathaniel turns back toward me. "I would love to continue talking, but it appears our time is up. Best luck to you, Mags Brine!"

I struggle to keep my head high as I walk back to the sofa, my face still as red as Nathaniel's. Kai is called up and already looks much more composed than me. He looks nice in his dark suit and shiny blue tie. After a few questions, it's clear that his angle is strong and determined.

"One last thing. What do you think of the Capitol, Kai?" Nathaniel prods.

"It's pretty incredible. The food is so much better than what Mags and I used to eat at my table at home." It's pretty clever how he just fit that in there.

"Oh, you and Mags were friends back in Four?" he asks.

Kai smiles wide. "Mags and I have known each other for as long as we can both remember. She is my older cousin, after all!"

The audience is in an uproar. I'm pretty sure this is the first time family has been reaped together. Well, actually, only one of us was reaped. Kai volunteered.

Sure enough, the camera is on my face. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Smiling seems completely wrong because this situation is a very unfortunate one. I look at the other tributes, and their faces are in various stages of shock. Blade is the only one who doesn't look stunned, so I assume Kai told him.

Nathaniel looks at Kai sympathetically as the buzzer sounds. "I'm very sorry, but our time is up. Best of luck to you and your cousin. Hopefully one of you will make it back to your family."

I am so relieved that our time in the spotlight is over that I am finally able to focus on the other interviews. The boy from Five and the girl from Seven both make an impression by acting threatening. The little girl from Twelve cries in the middle of the interview when Nathaniel brings up her poor training score. After the last boy finishes, I can say with certainty that Kai and I were the most unforgettable.

I hope that means we will have a lot of sponsors. We'll need everything we can get to survive after our "allies" decide to hunt us down.


	9. Arena

**A/N: Let the Games begin! I really hope I described the arena well enough to visualize.**

Goodbyes are just as hard the second time around. It seems like it should be easier because I've had a week to prepare for this, and I haven't known these people very long. What makes it worse is this is the last goodbye. When I left District Four, I comforted myself with the knowledge that I had a while to cope with everything before I would be thrown into the arena. That time has come and gone, and now I am hit with the full impact of finality. Kai and I could both be dead within hours.

Lilith just gives a small wave and walks off. She isn't exactly one who expresses any emotion besides discontent or anger. I will see her in the morning, anyway. Stylists stay with tributes until the start of the Games.

Isidora hugs Kai and I tightly and says she will miss both of us. Kallan gives me a one armed hug before Alec comes over and lays a hand on my shoulder.

"Please try to win, Mags." It seems like a hollow goodbye, but what else is there to say?

I nod and give him a hug. Then I walk over to my cousin and wrap my arms around him. I rest my head on his shoulder and stare and the wall behind him.

"No cornucopia, right? Just you and me," I say desperately because I don't know what I would do if he says "no".

"Right," he agrees.

I pull myself away from him and retreat to my room. As I pull on a nightgown and lay in bed, I become aware of an uneasy feeling inside of me. Part of it is grief, but the overwhelming majority of it is terror. Pure fear. For once, not even tying and untying my rope and thinking of home can calm me. Eventually, I just close my eyes and try to ignore the horrific scenarios playing out in my mind.

After forty minutes with no success in falling asleep, I start feeling cold. I'm colder than I have ever been in my whole life. It's a different kind of cold, though. Instead of coming from around me, the cold is inside of my body, piercing every bone and extending to the tips of my fingers. My whole body begins shaking uncontrollably, and it's a scary feeling.

I pull myself over to the bathroom and sit on the floor with my head between my shaking legs. I can't help but think that this is how I will die: here on the bathroom floor before the Games even start. A smaller, more sane part of my brain tells me it's probably just a panic attack. I grab all of the towels out of the bathroom and pull them over to the bed. Then I put on two more layers of night clothes and grab and extra blanket and form a cocoon of warmth. And I'm still freezing.

There's nothing I can do except try to fall asleep. I'm vaguely aware of hours passing. Sleep must eventually fall upon me because I wake up later screaming. The coldness is gone and I'm a sweaty mess. A glance at the clock tells me its 4:07 in the morning.

I haven't cried since that first day on the train, but I'm dangerously close to it now. I'm just about to give in when my door swings open and I see Alec entering my room. He has a sketchbook in his hand and dark circles under his green eyes. I must look like a crazy person curled up in a cocoon.

He takes in the scene. "Rough night?" he asks, and I nod.

"What are you doing up?" I ask, my voice shaky.

"I had a rough night, too. Let's go to the living area."

I wrestle the layers off of me and tear off the extra pajamas, relieved to feel cool air hit my hot skin. Rather than question him, I follow Alec out of the room and down the hallway.

He directs me over to the sofa and I curl up on it. I don't protest when he drapes a blanket over me, even though it is too hot. Alec walks down the hall and softly whispers something to a servant.

Isidora told me they are called avoxes and they can't talk because they had their tongues cut out on punishment for the Rebellion. It looks like we're both being punished for the Dark Days. The servant for fighting to end oppression and me for…well, playing with dolls by the fireplace as the war dragged on.

I feel too drained to peer around the sofa to see what they are doing. My ears pick up the sounds of pouring, stirring, and, strangely, chopping. After a few minutes, Alec walks over with a mug of hot chocolate. He hands it to me and sits on the opposite edge of the sofa.

"Thank you," I get out. Even though it's hot and I want something cool, I love the sweetness of the drink. Why is Alec doing this for me?

"What do you want in the future?" he asks. "Let's pretend all this mess never happened and you were never reaped. Where would you be in twenty years?"

His question surprises me. I don't know what I expected. Something about the Hunger Games, I guess. Not this. Despite that, the question intrigues me.

"I suppose I would want to get married to a man who loves me and have kids," I say, and the scene dances before my eyes. "We would all live in a house with an ocean view. My husband and I would teach the kids to swim and fish and steer a boat. We would stay in that house until we were grey-haired and all the kids had kids of their own. Then we could spoil the grandkids."

"You like to take care of people," Alec says. It isn't a question.

"I guess so," I reply, and I'm aware of my eyes beginning to droop. There must have been sleeping tablets in that milk.

"You can still have that future," Alec tells me. "You just have to win. If you don't do it for yourself or the district, do it for your future family," he says.

His words swirl around my head as I feel myself nodding off. I can still have that future. I just have to win. I'm about to ask Alec what he wants in his future when sleep overpowers me.

When I wake up, I am in my bed and Lilith is handing me a robe to put on. Hadn't I fallen asleep on the sofa? Did Alec carry me to bed, or was that all just a dream? It seemed pretty real. I _want_ it to have been real, but there's no way to know for sure.

"Hurry up, child. We're already late!" she screeches. Her black hair isn't curled yet, and that makes her look a lot different. I pull the robe over me and walk outside with her. A ladder from a hovercraft drops down and I reach out for it. The second I touch it, an electric current runs through my body, paralyzing me as the ladder lifts off the ground. Once I am inside, a woman walks over to me and shoots a needle into my skin.

"This is your tracker," she explains.

I don't like it at all, but I guess the tracker should be the least of my worries. The windows are tinted so dark that it's impossible to tell where they might be taking me. I'm scared I'll have another panic attack, so I put all of my attention into eating breakfast and shut out the rest of the world. It works to an extent.

After what must have been around two hours, the hovercraft lands, and Lilith and I are escorted to my personal launch room. Right above me is the arena that twenty-three kids will die in. As Lilith digs through the bag that contains my outfit, I fiddle with the little seashell on my necklace. My father's last gift to me. It reminds me of the words of wisdom he left me with: Don't let the Games make me forget who I am and what I stand for.

"I won't forget who I am," I say to no one in particular. Lilith looks at me like I have lost my mind. For all I know, I might have.

"Time to get dressed," she says almost calmly as she holds out my outfit. The short-sleeved shirt is a pale yellowish-green, and the pants are only a shade darker. They both appear to be made of a stretchy material that feels more like a bathing suit than cotton. Also included are a pair of brown tennis shoes made for running and a thin raincoat of the same color as the shirt.

"Ugly color," Lilith notes. I really couldn't care less about that.

"Do you think this means there with be water?" I ask hopefully.

She scrutinizes the outfit for a minute. "Hard to say," she replies. "There will probably be rain. The material of the shirt and pants looks more like its designed for not holding sweat than swimming. But, then again, that's only speculation."

Water could be my saving grace in the arena. I pull on the garments and notice they don't feel as much like a swimsuit as I originally thought. However, they are thin and definitely won't hold much water or perspiration. Not long after I have put on the shoes, a mechanized voice informs me that I have one minute to walk into the tube.

I don't want to. There's no going back after I take that step. I stand there, readjusting my seashell and attempting to control my breathing. The panic is rising again, and I start trembling lightly. My heart is racing a mile a minute.

_Thirty seconds._ I still haven't moved. Lilith walks over to me and grips my shoulders. I have to look up to meet her gaze.

"Get a grip, girl. All of Panem is watching," she says harshly, but I feel like that's exactly what I need right now. She walks me over to the tube and I reluctantly step inside.

_Ten seconds._ Is it possible that my heart just got faster?

"One more thing," Lilith says. "If you die, die with style. Make them remember you."

I swallow hard and try to say "okay" , but it comes out unintelligible. Suddenly, the wall is closing around me and I begin the ascent. It's so dark that I can't see my own hand. I want to get out of the dark, but I'm in no rush to reach the arena, either.

The brightness makes it impossible to see for a second when I reach the outside world, but I feel the heat immediately. It wraps around every inch of my skin, and I feel like I have been stuck inside an oven. This I can deal with. Seasons are practically a myth in District Four, where the heat of summer shines down year round. I'm much better equipped to deal with heat than cold. Those from northern districts might have a problem.

My eyes adjust just as the sixty-second countdown begins. A vast sea opens before my eyes. Only, it's not the type of sea I know. This is a sea of grass. It's tall grass, but not tall enough to conceal a person. It reaches up to about my mid-thighs and is the same pale color as my clothes. It barely reaches the knees of some of the taller tributes.

The next thing I see is the giant golden Cornucopia. Its insides are overflowing with weapons and neon colored bags. There's no way to tell what is inside the bright packs, but I assume it must be food and survival materials. All twenty-four tributes are spaced equidistant from each other in a circle around the golden horn. I can see Kai about five tributes over from me.

_45, 44, 43, 42_ …

The tall grass stretches far out into the distance. Its only interruption is a large lake several hundred yards out. What scares me about the lake is that it is surrounded on every side by about twenty yards of hard packed dirt, without so much as a blade of grass covering it. A horrible thought strikes me. This could very well be the only source of water in the arena, and you must walk out there in plain sight. It's the perfect trap to get tributes killed. I think I can make out some rocky mountains in the distance, but it's too blurry to be sure.

_25, 24, 23, 22 _…

The sea of grass is not nearly as wide as it is long. A five-minute run to either the right of left of where I'm standing now would bring me to something resembling woods. I'm not sure if it could really be called woods, though, because it is not nearly as dense as I would like. Nonetheless, there are trees, shrubs, and rocks. It's not optimal coverage, but it's the only option. This grass is not meant to be a hiding place.

_10, 9, 8, 7 …_

I position myself to run to the right, as it's a little closer than the shrubbery on the left. Hopefully, Kai will follow.

_4, 3, 2, 1 _… "Ladies and gentleman, let the twelfth annual Hunger Games begin!"

I am running before my mind can even register the fact, leaving a very obvious trail of trampled grass behind me. I'm making good progress when I turn around to make sure Kai is following me. What I see makes me stop so suddenly I fall into the grass.

Kai is heading straight for the Cornucopia. He agreed not to do this!

Scrambling to my feet, I try to decide what to do now. Everything around me is pure chaos. It's one thing to see the bloodbath on T.V. Watching it in person is infinitely worse. I can't bare to look towards the spewing blood and flailing limbs and tortured screams, and every instinct screams to run the other way. Run away and never look back. But I can't. Kai is there.

As a result of my internal dilemma, I am left frozen like an idiot. Part of me knows that standing still is the absolute last thing I should be doing now, but here I am. Here I am with my mouth hanging open standing on the edge of a bloodbath. Something flies in front of my face with a _whoosh, _and I realize I have just narrowly missed being hit with a hatchet.

The weapon flies past me and lands somewhere in the grass. I can see now that the source of the attack was the girl from Six. She clutches a pink bag and watches in despair as her weapon flies out of her reach. We stare at each other for a moment, neither knowing exactly what to do. Then she rushes to me and jumps on top of me. We are both pretty small, but she might have a bit of weight on me. Without thinking, I kick her as hard as I can in the gut and she recoils, grasping at her midsection in pain.

Within two seconds, I grab her neon pink bag and take off running to the trees. Adrenaline kicks in and my feet are moving faster than I ever though possible. I don't dare look back to see if she is following me.

It is not until I reach the relative safety of the trees that I remember Kai. I abandoned my own cousin. The thought is so despicable that I hate myself for it, but I know turning back is not an option.

How had this gone so wrong?

Even though I am tempted to run as far as physically possible away from the Cornucopia, I stay in close proximity. If Kai does make it out and tries to meet up with me, he needs to be able to find me. I try not to dwell on the fact that the chance of that is slim.

For the next few hours, I occupy myself by making camp. I find a spot between two big boulders that I'm just small enough to fit inside and cover the outside by uprooting shrubs and replanting them in front. I examine the contents of the pink bag: one bottle of water, water-purifying drops, flint, three apples and some meat, binoculars, and medicine that we use back in Four to treat sunburn. Not bad. The pink of the bag is about ten times brighter than anything in the surrounding area, though, so I stick whatever I can fit into my pockets and start making a grass bag for the rest. I tear off pieces of wood and sharpen them against rock until they resemble knives.

Even with all this to keep me busy, all I can think about is Kai. I jump when I hear ten consecutive cannons. The bloodbath is over. Ten kids who where interviewed last night are dead on the ground. Knowing that Kai might be one of them brings a crash of guilt and anxiety over me.

I'm sure my aunt and uncle hate me. Marilla and Hallie, too.

"I'm sorry," I say to the sky. "I'm so sorry."

The sound of footsteps alerts me. I push back the shrub and curl up in the little space between the rocks. I dig around my pocket until I find the pair of binoculars, then I position them over me eyes. My whole body tenses up when I see someone's feet.

"Mags? Where are you?"

I know that voice! "Kai! Kai, oh, I'm so happy you're alive!" I say as I jump out of my hiding place and run until I crash into him. I'm vaguely aware of tears of relief flowing down my face. "I was worried sick!"

"Don't worry. We're alive and I explained to the group why you ran," he says in a very serious tone.

The group? I'm about to ask what he means when I see Osten, Kim, and Blade come up from behind. All three of them have a few scratches and the blood of other tributes plastered on their clothes, but other than that, look well. When I lift my head off of Kai's chest, I notice he's in the same condition.

"Yeah, Kai said it was all a misunderstanding," Kim says, but her eyes are cold and piercing and she's grimacing at me. She has a long sword in her hands and multiple neon packs strewn over her shoulder.

"It was," Kai says. Then he turns to me. "Your mentor was lying when he said District Two asked to break the alliance."

His words are complete nonsense, but I go along with them. I have a feeling I won't survive long if I don't.

"It was? I didn't think he would lie to me," I say innocently.

"Well he did. There's no use questioning it now. Let's go back before someone steals our supplies," Blade says. I'm a little surprised because I've rarely heard the buff fourteen year old speak.

Osten is still glaring at me. "Yeah, let's go back. I hope you make yourself useful to make up for this little misunderstanding, Four."

I collect my belongings, and the five of us make it back to the Cornucopia in the warm dusk. I couldn't escape becoming a career and at least two members of the group already want to kill me, but Kai and I are alive, and that counts for a lot. At least for now.


	10. Alliance

**A/N: This chapter has some gory scenes, but that's hard to avoid in the Games. You can skip over those parts if you want, but please don't forget to review! Really, it means a lot.**

Osten warned me to make myself useful, and that's exactly what I plan on doing. I won't give them any reason to kill me. The second we get back to the Cornucopia, I offer to sort through the weapons and packs. Kai offers me help, but I explain to him that it is in my best interest to do it myself.

Digging through the neon packs isn't exactly relaxing, but it does help to focus on something besides the situation I'm in. Keeping my mind occupied is safer than reliving the images of the bloodbath. I carefully make separate piles for food and survival materials. There's quite a bit of food, but I suspect it won't be able to support all five of us for any longer than a few days. Most of it is snack food; not the filling meals served in the Capitol.

"I can head over to the lake to fish. We have a good bit of rope and I'm sure I could make a hook out of something," I say helpfully.

"Are you sure you won't run away again?" Osten sneers.

"We're a team now," Kai interrupts. "It won't happen again. Careers to the end, remember?"

"Yeah, okay," Osten replies. "But I think the fish can wait." He then looks over to me. "Why don't you make some of those net traps you showed us at training?"

"No, what we _really _need is something to cool us off! I would rather snow over this," Kim announces while fanning herself dramatically. Even though it is getting darker by the minute, it is still very hot. It doesn't bother me too much because I am used to it. I've never even seen snow, nor can I recall a time when the temperature dipped below freezing. However, the heat is enough to make my thirsty.

"Then we should still head to the lake," I say. Then I hesitate because I'm not in the position to be giving orders right now.

We talk it over for a minute and decide that Blade and I will head to the lake to get water. Then I am to come back and start working on net traps. I don't dare disagree.

I know that I wasn't allowed to go with Kai because Osten is paranoid we will desert, but I'm thankful that it's Blade I'm going with. He's quiet, but I trust him more than Osten and Kim. I can walk beside him without fearing he will send a spear through my body at any second.

It takes about fifteen minutes of walking to reach the lake. Just as we are stepping out of the high grass and onto the hard packed dirt that surrounds the water, the sky lights up and the Capitol anthem starts to play. Now we can see who didn't survive the day.

The first face to appear in the sky is the boy from Three, which means Crystal is still alive somewhere in the night. I can't help but feel relieved, even though her survival is not my responsibility. Next to appear is the girl from Five, followed by the boy from Six. Districts Eight, Nine, and Eleven also lose one tribute. Ten and Twelve lose both. Some pictures make me cringe because I remember seeing their deaths when I was too worried about Kai to move. I wonder how many of them my allies killed. Even Kai must have some blood on his hands. I don't want to think of my younger cousin as a murderer.

Blade probably killed some of them, but he does not boast like Osten or Kim would. Instead, he sighs and walks closer to the lake, dipping his legs in when he reaches it. The darkness has transformed the lake into a pool of black that glistens white in some spots from the reflection of the moon. I plop down next to Blade and stick my legs in to find it is delightfully cool. Part of me is worried about what dangers might be in the water, but sometimes it's not good to be overly cautious in the Games. The cool water is so inviting that I can't help but dive in.

When I'm underwater, I'm in a different world. The Hunger Games do not exist. Neither does Panem. My senses are blocked and all that exists is a chilly dark dimension where people float instead of walk. It reminds me so much of home that I am genuinely distressed when I am forced to resurface to the other world where I'm in the middle of a televised fight to the death. I see the moonlight reflect off of Blade's face. He is watching me skeptically.

"How did you go without breathing for that long? I was sure you had drowned."

It's true that I stayed under longer than I probably should have. My lungs feel like they are on fire and I am still gasping for air. "I've been holding my breath underwater for my whole life," I reply breathlessly.

"Oh," he says. "I wish I could swim. The water feels so nice."

I smile and splash him before climbing out. He doesn't protest because we both know it feels good. "Let's get some water," I say.

We both brought packs filled with several empty containers. I scoop water into them and Blade puts in the purifying drops. After we have filled all the containers, I pull out the grass bag I had made earlier today and scoop water into it. It is so heavily reinforced that no water leaks out of it. Blade seems impressed. I really want to fish in the lake, but I guess that will have to wait until tomorrow.

Finding the way back to the Cornucopia is easy even in the dark because we left a trail of trampled grass. When we reach the camp, I notice the other three members of our alliance have spread out sleeping bags on the high grass. They kind of just sit on top of the grass like a piece of driftwood floating in the ocean until someone puts weight on them. Then they sink down and leave a four-walled grass enclosure around them. We use weapons and our feet to crush down the annoying grass around us so we can keep an eye on each other in the night.

For the next few hours, I craft full sized nets and rope traps as the others discuss tomorrow's plans. They basically involve hunting down Crystal and killing anyone else we stumble upon or trap. It's better for me to block them out and focus on the knots than participate in the conversation. After a while, it is time to turn in for the night.

"I'll take first watch!" Osten declares. "We need to keep an eye on the lake."

We all agree, and I lay down on top my sleeping bag next to Kai. It is too hot to get in between the layers. Even though I always sleep on my back at home, I curl into a position where I am half on my side and half on my stomach. I pull my hair out of the messy braided ponytail Lilith put it is this morning and let it fall over my face. Now I can keep watch from behind my hair. There's no way I'm letting my guard down with Osten or Kim on watch.

I don't even think I could fall completely asleep if I tried. This doesn't seem to be a problem for Kai, though. It's only been a few minutes, and through my hair, I can see his eyes are shut and he is snoring slightly. I spend most of the night in a state between consciousness and sleep. Sometimes I see the beginnings of a dream shift around before my eyes, but the slightest noise calls me back. It isn't until I hear Kai get up to keep watch that I let sleep take over. By then, I wish I hadn't. I should have known I would be subjected to nightmares.

It's easy enough to stay awake during my watch. I resume to the half asleep, half spying set-up when it's Kim's turn. I must drift into a light sleep at some point because I jump awake when Kim shakes me urgently.

"There's someone headed for the lake!" she announces excitedly. Dawn is approaching, and the sky is just light enough to see the gleam in her eyes.

The others rise awake tiredly, rubbing their eyes and grabbing blindly for weapons. Osten stares at the shadowy figure in the distance, then a smile appears on his face.

"Let's go! Mags, you grab the traps you made last night. We'll set them up after the kill," he says hurriedly.

I comply, and the five of us move quickly but inconspicuously through the tall grass. The figure starts to become clearer, and I can see it's a boy, and a young one at that. He looks very weak, and he's completely disregarding his surroundings. He's dragging himself to the lake like it's life itself. I guess he must be dehydrated.

He's reached the lake when Osten breaks out into a run. The rest of us follow suit. I'm a little slower because my hands are full of ropes and nets that keep falling down around my feet when I run, causing me to trip. Kai tries to stay at the same pace as me. When we reach the lake, Osten and Kim are already harassing the boy and pointing weapons to his chest. I recognize him to be the twelve year old from Seven. He's so tiny and weak and it feels so wrong to be ganging up on him. I gasp and drop the nets when Osten punctures him with a spear. Kim follows right behind by slashing a sword through him. They purposely hit him in non-fatal areas to make him suffer.

I want to yell at them to stop torturing the kid when someone else does it for me. Well, not exactly. Nevertheless, the high pitched scream coming from the edge of the trees is enough to distract them.

"It might be your district partner!" Kim cries to Osten, and suddenly the unidentified girl becomes top priority.

"Finish the boy off, Mags!" Osten cries, already taking off. Kai hesitates by me, but then Osten calls for him to bring the other spear and he's gone.

I stare sympathetically at the boy who's cut up on the ground, his eyes wide with terror. Is there even a point in finishing him off? He's going to die any minute now already. I kneel down in the pool of blood beside him and smooth back his hair.

"Shh…it's okay. Wherever you're headed, it's less painful than here," I coo. "The nightmare's ending."

Fear is gone from his expression, but pain is still there. He looks like he's holding onto my words. His face shifts a bit and he tries to say something, only to cough up blood. Determined, he mouths the words to me. _Please, end it._

I wince, but I know what I have to do. It was never my intention to take lives, but his is already running out. All I'm doing is ending the pain. I close my eyes and push my knife through his small frame. The boy's canon fires. He's in a better place now.

Still, I feel horrible and weak. I hear two screams in the distance. One belongs to the girl who screamed earlier. The other belongs to a male. Suddenly, I jump to my feet, collect the nets, and tear off running full speed to the trees. Another canon fires.

Small shrieks are coming from my throat and I can feel anxiety taking over. Please don't let it be Kai. I don't think that was his scream, but it's hard to tell. Please please please please.

I burst into the trees and am met with a gory sight that has me feeling faint. The girl from Six, the same one who almost hit me with a hatchet yesterday, is dead on the ground, barely recognizable. Kai is on the ground, too, and it takes my brain a minute to register that he is not the one with the fatal wound. He is crouched down next to Blade, whose arm is nearly detached and bleeding profusely. A mace lies on the ground next to him. I want to close my eyes and run away because I know I will never be able to unsee what I'm looking at now.

Osten and Kim are in some kind of argument. "We can't just leave him here to die!" Kim screeches.

"Yes we can! Alliances mean we don't kill each other. We have no obligation to save him! All but one of us has to die anyway!" he screams back.

I feel like I have the gist of the argument, and it's making me mad. "It might not be too late to save him!," I yell at Osten. "We have sponsors, and even if we can't help him, the very _least _we can do is stay with him as he dies!" I'm surprised at how venomous my voice sounds.

Osten's voice is even more venomous when he relies. "You'd better watch your mouth, Four, unless you want me to detach _your_ arm." In a fit of rage, he throws his spear against a tree and screams. "Fine! You can stay with him, but I'm going back to camp. Hopefully it will teach you that the Hunger Games is no place to save people! All of you need to grow up!" he shouts, walking off.

Just as he walks away, a silver parachute drops down. Kai jumps up and catches it. As soon as he does, Kim tears it out his hands and dumps the contents on the ground. It looks like some kind of wrap and a metal stick. Accompanied by it are morphling tablets.

"What the hell is this?" Kim screams and throws it to the side.

"I think it's a tourniquet!" I say urgently. "We can save him!" I look over to Blade, and he's moaning in pain. It's painful to watch.

Kim grips me by the shoulders and looks at me desperately. "You can do the tourniquet and stop the blood flow!" she exclaims. Her eyes are shiny, like there are tears fighting to escape

My face hardens. "I…I've never done one before. I don't know if I can do it."

She digs her fingernails into my shoulders and starts shaking me violently. "No, you're going to do it! Try to get out of it and I'll kill you! I'll kill you right here, in front of your cousin!"

I know she's acting like this because she's desperate, but her threat is very real and I'm terrified. What puzzles me is why Blade's life means so much to her. I didn't think she would care much.

Kai looks over to her and snaps, "Shut up, Kim! Maybe she would do it if you would help her!"

"Let's all do it," I say, and my voice is helplessly shaky.

We move over to Blade and begin the daunting task. Kai is being too rough with the arm, so I tell him to give Blade the morphling. I know how powerful the drug is, and Blade is still screaming in pain.

Our hands are coated in hot blood by the time we make a passable tourniquet. I'm scared that it won't be enough, or that we did it wrong. At least most of the blood flow is cut off. Blade has passed out in the meantime. I'm so nauseous that I lean over and throw up into the grass. Even Kai, who is much braver than me, is shaking.

I'm surprised to see silent tears falling down Kim's face. She rubs them away and blinks over and over again to stop the tears from flowing. I rest my hand on her knee.

"You did a good thing. Whether Blade makes it or not, he knows you cared enough to try. That means a lot to him and his family."

She pushes my hand away. "I don't need your sympathy, Four," she says angrily. A few minutes pass before she whispers, "He's from home. We went to career training together. He's worked too hard for this to die on the second day of the Games."

Kai and I nod sadly. I don't want to see Blade die, either. He's a good kid who got mixed up in this mess.

"Should we try to move him?" Kai asks.

"Not yet," I say, mostly because I'm scared the blood will start flowing freely again. I look over to the nets I dropped when I got here. "What about the traps?"

"I'll put them up," Kim volunteers. I suspect it's just because she doesn't want to look vulnerable in front of us.

Kai and I huddle together by Blade as we wait for her. I wonder what Alec thinks of all of this. I wish I could talk to him and ask for advice because I feel helpless. What about my family? Or they proud or ashamed of us?

There's nothing I want more than to go home right now. I don't know if I will ever make it back, but there is one thing I absolutely know for sure.

Today's horrific images will be in my mind for the rest of my life, regardless of how long that may be.


	11. Tension

It's not even noon, and I'm already tired of today. I didn't want to finish off the little boy whose blood is still on my knife. I didn't want to make an emergency tourniquet to stifle the blood flowing out of Blade's nearly detached arm. I didn't want to make Osten mad or get a death threat from Kim. And I certainly don't want to carry Blade back to the Cornucopia when every movement puts him at risk of bleeding again.

Kai is helping me hold up Blade. Kim would probably be better suited to helping carry him than I am since she is bigger and stronger, but she seems reluctant to make eye contact with us after her little breakdown. Instead, she is leading the way back, at least twenty steps ahead of us at all times. It takes a while to make it back because we have to stop often to reposition Blade's arm. Every now and then, he regains consciousness and looks around in a daze, only to fade out seconds later.

I see Osten's face register surprise when he sees us. Part of me hopes he will admit he was wrong to storm out, but that's a little much to hope for. Still, it's hard to resist saying "I told you so."

We have just settled Blade down on his sleeping bag when Osten makes an angry announcement.

"Someone stole a lot of our food!," he shouts. "Whose idea was it for us to all leave at the same time, anyway?"

I bite my tongue and keep quiet because saying that it was his idea would be a suicidal move.

"That's just fantastic!" Kim says, her voice laced heavily with sarcasm. She kicks a few packs then leans against the Cornucopia.

I peer over to our food pile. Sure enough, at least half of it is gone. The amount we have left won't last us long at all.

"Just eat now. I'll catch some fish before dinner," I say tiredly. All I want to do now is rest. It doesn't help that I barely slept last night.

Besides Blade's occasional moan, it's uncomfortably quiet. Kai brings me some pecans and crackers to snack on, and we eat in silence. About an hour passes before Kim suggests I go fish. I nod heavily and grab the fishing pole and nets I crafted last night. I'm kind of nervous about leaving Kai right now, but he hasn't done anything to make Osten want to kill him.

The next few hours are about as relaxing as the Hunger Games can get. When fishing, I can at least pretend I'm safe at home. Feel the sun wrap around me and listen to birds overhead. It takes patience, but I'm in no hurry to get anywhere. I end up with a pretty good haul.

It's not until I lean over and look at my reflection in the water that I feel awful. I can't identify the girl peering back at me. Even though I still feel like myself on the inside, my reflection looks feral. The worst part is the bloodstains. Dried blood is blotted all over my pale green outfit and is smeared over my cheeks. It makes me feel sick to have the blood of others caked onto me, so I lower myself into the lake and scrub my skin violently until it's red and sore. I can clean the blood off my face and hands, but it's still stained onto my clothes. I just barely resist the urge to tear them off and throw them in the water.

When I get back to camp, I see Blade has regained consciousness. Kai and Kim are sitting by him, trying to hold a conversation. Osten is sitting several feet away, digging through weapons.

"I'm glad to see you've rejoined us," I tell Blade with a genuine smile. He still looks sickly and weak, but at least he's alive.

"Me too," he strains to say.

"Did you catch any fish?" Kai asks hopefully.

"Sure did," I say, holding out the bag. "Help me gut them."

We carefully dig knifes through the fish, knowing the right spots to target. Osten and Kim wait impatiently, and we tell them to start a fire so we can cook the meat. It smells delicious.

Neither Kim or Osten thank me, but I can tell they are grateful for the food. Unlike the rest of the items in the food pile, this is a meal, not a meager snack. Blade doesn't look up to eating, so I kneel next to him and try to get some water into his system. One time back in Four, I donated blood to the district hospital and the nurse made me drink a lot of water. I'm sure Blade has lost much more blood than I did, so it is imperative he gets replenished with water.

"Do we have any more morphling tablets?" he asks, desperate and weak.

I frown a bit. "I think we only have one left. You might as well take it," I say. There weren't many in the bottle because morphling is costly.

After I help him swallow it, I run my hand over his face to find he is hot with fever. There's no telling what his temperature is for his forehead to feel steamy under my already warm hand.

Kim must take in my uneasy expression because she sounds concerned when she asks, "Is everything alright over there?" It still amazes me how Kim can go from hostile to caring so fast.

"I'm not sure," I reply, but the way my voice picks up at the end makes it sound like a question. "He has a fever."

Kim purses her lips, then picks up my knife and starts sawing through my sleeping bag.

"What are you…" I start before she cuts me off.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Four?" she snaps. Her tone makes me jump. She finally rips off a piece of the bag and dunks it in a bowl of water before laying it across Blade's forehead. "I'm breaking his fever," she says more calmly.

"Oh," is all I can say. Do I trust Kim? No. But I might respect her a little more after today.

There doesn't seem to be much to do now. Evening falls and no one is up for any more action today. I'm laying on my torn up sleeping back and starting to nod off when I feel a drop on my cheek. It's delightfully cold, but I have no idea where it came from. Another drop on my arm makes me realize it must be drizzling. Of course. All the tributes who know better than to venture out to the lake are undoubtedly dehydrated by now. This is their source of water.

"I never thought rain could feel so good," Osten says, and for once, I agree with him.

The drops start falling down hard enough to where it can no longer be considered a drizzle. The five of us are lying down and laughing as if the rain is some luxury, but then it starts coming down even harder. Too hard. The wind picks up, too, and suddenly I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a hurricane. There's no way a hurricane would hit here, though, so the storm is clearly gamemaker fabricated. Everything has to be a nightmare.

Before long, the rain is slanting and hits me in sheets with so much force that it's painful. The wind howls so loud that I can't hear Kai's voice, even though he is only three feet away. I feel like I might fall over backwards from the gust. The high grass is whipping forward in waves that make it look like an angry ocean. At least we are far away from the trees. I can see some of them toppling over already and leaves and sticks are flying everywhere.

Some of our packs and sleeping bags are flying away. We grab at the desperately and make a mad dash for the Cornucopia. I'm almost to safety when I realize Blade can't get up. I run back to him and try to pull him against the wind. Kai comes back and helps me.

The rain still hits us inside the Cornucopia, but it is a big improvement over being outside. I'm about to curl up next to my cousin when I notice my hand is covered in blood. The color drains from my face when I see Blade is bleeding again. We were too rough with his arm when we dragged him here.

"Blade!" I shriek. "Kai! Kim! Blade's losing blood!" I'm screaming as loudly as I can, but the rain is so loud against the sides of the golden horn.

"What?" Kai yells. I can't hear his voice well, but I can tell that's what he's saying. I give up on talking and point hurriedly to Blade's arm. The puddle of blood is growing bigger by the second. I notice Blade has slipped into unconsciousness again.

I think I hear Kim scream. All of us, except for Osten, of course, are clawing at Blade's arm, desperately trying to fix the ruined tourniquet, but we are only making it worse. I'm feeling nauseous and light headed again. Too much blood. Way too much blood.

I hear a loud noise over the rain. At first I assume it's thunder, but then a terrifying thought strikes me. I lean against Blade's chest and listen for a heart beat, but I can't hear anything. I hold my hand there to see if I can at least feel something, not caring that I'm getting soaked in blood again. Still nothing.

The sound was Blade's canon. I'm sobbing now, and it's getting hard to breathe. This is my fault. I should have been more careful with the arm. I messed up the tourniquet and let him bleed to death. Kai and Kim slowly put together what happened. I see Kai's face grow pale. Kim is slamming her fists against the rounded metal walls and trying to hide her tears. Osten just looks unimpressed. He's saying something to us. I think it might be words of disapproval or an "I told you so", but no one can hear him, so it doesn't matter anyway.

It takes an hour for the hurricane-like storm to stop. I still have my shaking arms wrapped around Kai's body.

"We need to drag out the corpse so they can pick it up," Kim says glumly. Her voice is lacking it's usual ferocity and she looks young and innocent without the façade.

"I've got it," Osten says. He pulls out the body forcefully, and I'm tempted to tell him to be more gentle, but I guess there's no point anymore. It's just a corpse.

He peeks back through the opening when he's done. "What are all of you waiting for? He's gone. Get over it."

There are three faces in the sky tonight. I saw all three dead bodies and was involved in the deaths of two of them. I've never been more miserable.

It's harder to stay awake tonight. It's not that I trust them to not kill me in my sleep; I'm just too drained. Still, I wake up every hour from nightmares. The next morning, Osten and Kim go collect firewood from the forest so we can cook more fish later. It's just Kai and I at the camp when we hear a girl's scream from the edge of the woods.

"Do you think that was one of your traps?" Kai asks.

"Maybe," I say. I hope not. "Let's go check it out."

We walk closer until we can make out the figure entangled in the net. "I think that's the girl from One. Osten and Kim will be happy about this," he says. He doesn't sound happy.

"Go get them," I order. He complies and runs off into the distance.

I walk closer to Crystal and she makes eye contact with me. All I see is fear in her hazel eyes. I realize how I must look to her, so I drop the knife in my hand.

"Are you okay?' I ask. She upside down and her limbs are stuck in strange positions.

"Not at all," she says. How can she keep her voice steady? "They're going to drag it out, aren't they? Take their time killing me."

I grimace because I know it's true. Both Osten and Kim have been out to get her just for having a different opinion on the Games than they do. I don't want to see them kill her. No one deserves to die that way. If I let it happen, I'm equally responsible for her death.

I pick up my knife and start slicing through the net. It's difficult because I made it strong, but I eventually power through the knots. With a final slice, I take out the bottom of the net and Crystal falls out, rustling the grass.

"Get out of here. Now," I plead. The others will be here any minute now.

Crystal rolls over on the ground and looks up at me quizzically. "They'll kill you for letting me go," she says.

"That's my problem, not your's. Now go!" I hiss.

She still looks confused. "Come with me then, Mags. I can't let you save me then leave you to die."

I look back frantically. I'll really be dead if Osten sees me now. It's tempting to go with her. The alliance I'm in now won't survive for much longer, anyway. But I have Kai to worry about. "I can't," I say sadly. "My cousin…"

She seems to understand now. "Thank you," she says before jumping up and running away.

"You're welcome," I say softly, even though she can't hear me. Not even a minute is passed before I see Osten, Kim, and Kai running to me. Every muscle in my body tightens in fear.

"What happened?" all three of the exclaim in unison.

"She had a knife," I lie. "I tried to chase her, but she had a head start and she got away."

Kim looks both angry and disappointed. "You really screwed up this time," she says.

Her anger is nothing compared to Osten's, though. I can almost feel his fury hanging around in the air. His voice is enraged but level when he speaks to me.

"I thought you said your nets were strong. If a knife can break through them, there's no point in even having you in this alliance is there?"

"Nets are made out of rope, not steel," I say with more attitude than I intended. My eyes immediately fall down to the spear in his left hand to see if he's going to attack me. I'm so focused on the weapon that I don't see it coming when his hand slaps me across the face with such force that my head whips to the side. It's already throbbing and I can tell without looking that a purple bruise is already blossoming over the area. I'm frozen in shock when he shoves me down into the grass and I land hard on my tailbone.

I'm furious. I expected his anger, but I'm not here to be pushed around. I grip my knife and open my mouth because I have a few choice words for Osten right now.

Kai beats me to it. Within seconds, they have spears aimed at each other and are screaming profanity back and forth. I'm still mad, but suddenly that's not the most important thing. Neither is my stinging face or tailbone.

"Kai! Stop!" I screech because I don't want him getting himself killed because of me.

They both disregard me, but then Kim steps in between them and brandishes her sword.

"Both of you shut up now! There's still seven people out there besides us that need to die and we need the numbers. Now isn't the time to kill each other off, you idiots!"

Both boys are still tense, but they lower their weapons.

"Let's go back to camp. Mags is going to go fishing and catch at least a dozen fish," Osten declares.

"How is she supposed guarantee twelve fish? That's not how fishing works!" Kai screams.

Osten looks like he might raise his weapon again. "That's the number it's going to take to put this little incident behind us…for now."

Kai relents and walks over to me. "Are you okay, Mags? Your face looks horrible."

"Gee, thanks!" I say, hoping an attempt at humor will calm him down.

"You know what I mean," he replies. Then his voice drops to a whisper. "Maybe you were right about Osten. I don't know who he thinks he is. He acts like he's stronger than the rest of us. I think he forgot I got the same training score as him."

I give a subtle shake of my head. "What's done is done. We'll talk about this later; you need to go now." He reluctantly begins moving away when I add something. "If they try to hurt you while I'm not there, run. Don't worry about me. Please, just run."

He nods solemnly and follows Osten and Kim back to camp.

Fishing isn't nearly as relaxing today. The side of my face is throbbing and it hurts to sit because my tailbone still aches. Sure enough, the entire right side of my face is an even deeper purple than the dark circles under my eyes. Even if I work past the pain, the pressure to catch a dozen fish still makes me anxious. What if I can't? Will Osten kill me and Kai?

After a few hours, I put down my pole and check the nets I have scattered around the lake. Eleven fish. More than I hoped for, but less than I need. I know I need to head back now, but my line isn't catching any more fish and I'm freaking out. I try to tell myself that I'm taking Osten's words too literally. I'm about to give up when a silver parachute drifts down. Inside is one fish and a letter that simply says _Number 12. _

Thank you, Alec! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I walk back across the grass plains and deliver the fish. Osten counts them carefully and seems almost disappointed. My guess is he was counting on this to be the perfect excuse to kill me. Guess he's out of luck for now. As the four of us sit and eat dinner, there is so much tension in the air that I'm feeling more nervous by the second.

Osten is glaring at both Kai and me. I'm pretending to study my food as if I have never seen a fish before and it's the most fascinating thing in the world. Kai is openly glaring at Osten. Kim just rolls her eyes at all of us before turning away and going eat by herself.

No, this alliance is not lasting much longer at all.


	12. Hate

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed / alerted this story! I just want to let those who reviewed as guests know that I read and appreciated what they wrote since I couldn't PM them. **

**One person pointed out that there's a lot of similarities with Finnick and Annie's story. I'm glad they noticed that because I'm intentionally trying to draw some parallels. When Mags is older and Finnick and Annie are around, they remind her of her past, and that's part of the reason she understands and cares for them. Thanks again!**

Hate is not an emotion I'm familiar with, at least when it comes to other human beings. I've known for a long time that the world is full of corrupt people, but I've always looked past it because I know there is good deep down inside everyone. I saw it in Kim when she did her best to help Blade survive. It doesn't make her innocent or trustworthy, but it does make her forgivable. The problem is I'm struggling to find any good inside of Osten.

I don't want to hate him, but I do. It's the way he's merciless when it comes to killing others. It's the way he would hunt down someone from his own district for not wanting to join his alliance. It's the way he abandoned Blade when there was still a chance to save him. It's the way he slapped me across the face and the way he gives death stares to Kai.

I just hate him.

My eyes look up into the dark sky as my mind searches for a way to excuse Osten for all he's done wrong. Maybe he's insecure and feels like he has to assert himself to be taken seriously. Or maybe he just wants to go home to his family so badly that he's acting ruthless to win. I don't know. It doesn't change the way I feel.

There is one face in the sky tonight. Thankfully, it isn't Crystal; just the girl from Three. I'm glad I never got to know her because it's much easier to accept the death of a stranger.

"I'm taking first watch," Osten says as we climb onto our sleeping bags. Then, because he's a jerk and he can't help himself, he has to add, "Someone might want to take watch with Mags, since she can't catch another person even when they're right in front of her."

I know he's trying to get a rise out of me, but I will resist.

"Last time I checked, the position's called watch, not annoy the hell out of everyone by talking when they're trying to fall asleep!" Kim tells him harshly.

I can't help but give her a round of applause for that. Kai and I grin at each other. Osten's infuriated, of course, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Sleeping tonight would be like willingly jumping into a shark tank. There's no way I'm letting my guard down. As usual, I curl up on my side and push my now-matted and sweaty hair over my face. Nothing happens for a while. After what must be about an hour, Osten walks over to Kim, presumably to wake her up for her turn at watch.

But instead of going back to sleep, he sits down next to her. I hear her tiredly mumble words of confusion, and he shushes her loudly.

"I'm just saying, it's us versus them. Do you think they're going to split up? No. We have to stick together," Osten whispers.

I can just make out Kim's form through my hair. "What's your point? That isn't exactly new information."

"I know that. I think it's time to kill them. The girl deserves it and the boy won't cooperate with us if we kill his cousin. We're better off without them now," he replies.

Kim's voice sounds aggravated. "Didn't you hear what I said earlier? We need the numbers to go down more before that."

"So all the sudden you three are best friends?" He laughs without humor.

"Don't put words in my mouth! Trust me, I'll kill them myself. All I'm saying is it isn't time for that yet. Mags is good at fishing and Kai is as good as you with a spear. Having them around will help us survive longer."

"I'm much better than him!" Osten says, a little too loudly. I hear Kai make a sound in his sleep. Osten and Kim both freeze.

"Great job, genius," Kim says sarcastically. "What if they're awake now?"

"They aren't," Osten replies, acting like he knows everything. "But you have to trust me, Kim. The girl is up to something and Kai will go along with anything she does. There's no future in this alliance. Now's the time to get rid of them."

"Whatever," Kim relents. "Just don't do it tonight. Give her a chance to cook again tomorrow and maybe make a few more nets that we can use when she's gone."

I think Osten nods. "Okay. I'm going to sleep."

I've heard all I need to hear. Kai and I need to leave tonight. I wait patiently until Kim wakes me up for my turn at watch. After that, I wait a good forty or fifty minutes to make sure both Osten and Kim are asleep. It's possible that they are just pretending like I was. But, after a while, Osten is snoring and Kim's mouth is hanging open slightly. Despite this, I'm still paranoid when I nudge Kai. It only takes a few shoves and pinches to wake him up. I guess he isn't in as deep a sleep as usual.

"My turn?" he asks, his words slurring as his eyes droop back down. For some reason, this makes me want to smile. I would if we weren't in such a bad situation right now.

"It's time for us to go, Kai. They want us dead," I whisper.

It takes his still half-asleep brain a minute to register what I'm saying. "Right now?" he asks.

"Yes. Get your spear and be careful not to wake the others."

I pat his shoulder then get up and tiptoe over to my knife. I steal all the water bottles and the remainder of my fish and stuff them into two packs. All of the rope and nets find their way into my pack as well. Kai is more alert now, so I hand him one of the bags and we begin slowly walking away from camp.

It's the most nerve-racking thing ever. I'm still not positive that the other two are even asleep at all. I guess they must be if they haven't come after us yet, but surely the rustling of the grass we're stepping over will wake them. My head swings back to them in a nervous glance every step I take. Kai's steps are even louder. I might just hate this grass even more than Osten.

We don't start running until after we've reached the lake. If Osten and Kim wake up now, they won't see us. We have become two shadows of the night. After crossing into the semi-dense tree line, we change direction. Neither of us know exactly where we are headed. Any place far from our former allies will do. Dawn breaks and we are still traveling.

The further we get from the grass field, the more the arena morphs. The high grass extends a good distance into the tree line, but as the hours pass, it becomes shorter and shorter. Most of the trees are of medium height and branch out to where the tops are flat. It's interesting to look at, but not suitable to hide in. There are hills and rocks here, too. We ignore our exhaustion and walk further until we reach what must be the edge of the arena. There's a line of rocky crags that are impossible to travel through.

"So it just ends here?" I ask Kai.

"I guess the arena's like a rectangle. That's how the grass field was. We know it stretches really far back to reach the mountains in the distance. Maybe we should head that way," he answers thoughtfully.

I consider that. "I don't know. Doesn't that seem like a place most tributes would go? The further away we are from everyone else, the better."

"Maybe. Can we just rest now? I almost fell asleep while we were walking."

"Sure," I say because I'm exhausted too. I haven't gotten much sleep since the Games started. We find a place along the edge of the arena that's kind of concealed by a hill. I grudgingly agree to let him sleep first. Before Kai drifts off, he says something.

"I almost hope Osten gets his throat slit. He deserves to die."

I feel uneasiness rising inside me when he says that. "Kai, take that back. You don't mean that."

"How do you know I don't?" he asks. "I thought you hated him too, Mags."

"I'm not his biggest fan," I sigh. "But don't you think that's crossing some kind of line? There are some things human beings should never say, no matter the circumstances. We don't have the right to."

He seems almost agitated now. "What do you mean we don't have the right? It's our only choice!"

His words sting because they are true. I close my eyes and see a warm red-orange behind my lids from the intense sun. My hands find the little seashell around my neck as I try to think of a way to say what I mean without angering the Capitol.

"I know we're surrounded by darkness, Kai, but that doesn't mean there shouldn't be light." I open my eyes and look at him. "Do you understand what I mean?"

He stares back at me blankly. "I thought I knew what you were talking about until you mentioned darkness. I don't think it could be any less dark right now. The sun's too bright."

I shake my head and smile sadly. Typical Kai, always taking my words literally. I'm going to miss that. I'm going to miss him.

That thought leads me to think of everyone else I'm going to miss as Kai sleeps. My parents and Kai's family, of course. I'll miss a handful of friends at school. I add Alec, Kallan, Isidora, my prep team, and even Lilith to that list.

The sound of a canon makes me jump and Kai jolts awake. The boom was loud and close, and when the hovercraft picks up the body, it's only a few hundred yards away. I can tell that it's a girl that's being picked up, but I can't see her well enough to place the district. It's not Kim or Crystal because the girl's hair looks black from here. Maybe she's from Eight?

Kai and I exchange a nervous glance. She could have died from dehydration, but if someone killed her, they aren't far away.

"Come on, let's go," I tell Kai.

He doesn't move. "Wouldn't it be better to go take them out now?"

"No! We didn't run away to have you die twelve hours later!"

We argue back and forth for a few minutes before I finally convince him to move on. Our current path take us towards the mountains simply because that's the only direction to go. The opposite way would only take us closer to the Cornucopia.

This continues for two more days. It's much harder to survive on our own than it was with the Careers, when we had access to supplies and a lake. Our stash of water depletes rapidly, and we become weaker and weaker until the next onslaught of rain comes. It's horrifying, especially when surrounded by trees that are toppling over, but it allows us to refill our bottles.

Most of our nutrition comes from edible plants, nuts, and berries. Sometimes we're lucky and one of my snares catches a small animal. I learn Kai isn't half bad at hunting animals himself. A meager sponsor gift drops in every now and then.

Before long, it is day seven and we have been in the arena for a full week. Sixteen gone, eight left to play. I've learned from eleven years of watching the Hunger Games that the most casualties lie in the first and last days of the Games. I guess only a few more people must die before the gamemakers decide they want a big, bloody finale.

"I bet they're interviewing your little sisters back home," I tell Kai. "I miss them so much."

He laughs. "I miss them, too. I never thought I'd say that."

I laugh along with him. It's so unlike Kai to admit how much he cares for Marilla and Hallie. It seems like the worst luck possible that I was picked after Kai volunteered, but it could have been worse. What if Marilla was picked? She might be the most mature, brave, and tough twelve year old I know, but I'm glad that I'm here instead of her.

Who's left besides us, District One, and Kim?" I ask.

It takes him a minute to think. "The boys from Five and Eleven…..and the girl from…Seven, I think."

I nod and am about to reply when we step out onto the grass plains. We must have accidentally changed direction sometime in the night. The lake that was our source of life is now a blur in the distance. The mountains, on the other hand, have gone from small and blurry to huge and imposing. We are getting closer to the back of the rectangle.

Kai isn't looking at the lake or the mountains, though. "Mags, look at those weird deer! That's enough meat to last us weeks!"

Sure enough, there's a herd of large animals prancing through the grass. They look similar to deer, but their antlers are more like horns that stick straight up. Each has a tan body with a white underbelly. The main difference, however, is that these deer-like creatures aren't walking like deer. They appear to be leaping as they run. These animals would provide a lot of meat, but I don't think the two of us could take them down. Maybe we could get the little one struggling to keep up.

Kai starts charging at them with his spear held out and I run behind with my knife. Something happens when we get close. Something unnatural. All of the animals stop in their tracks and peer at us. Then, very deliberately, they each bare a mouth of razor sharp teeth. Muttations. I was hoping there wouldn't be any this year, but those animals are clearly genetically altered.

Now Kai and I are the ones who are being chased. The animals are very fast and gaining on us quickly. They don't stop when we make it back to the trees. Even though Kai has a tendency to exaggerate his speed, he is still faster than me, and I am struggling to keep up. One of the mutts nips my calf. It doesn't go too far into the skin, but it's enough to rip the fabric of my pants and radiate pain up my leg. Another is closing in on me when I turn around and stab the creature. It's not dead yet, but it's too injured to keep pursuing me. I call Kai and tell him to keep running. Then I jump onto the nearest tree and try to climb. It's easier said than done because the branches don't start until two-thirds of the way up, but I use my knife to help me climb.

The mutts reach my tree and start butting their heads into it. After a few minutes, Kai starts running back and I scream at him to stop because they'll get him. Strangely, the animals suddenly appear to decide they have had enough and calmly leap back to where they came from. Kai and I stare after them, dumbfounded.

"What was the point of that?" Kai complains.

I slide down the tree and wince. "One got my leg, but it's not that bad." I look at Kai's face and notice he has shallow cuts. He must have ran into something.

We're trying to decide what to do next when we hear footsteps. There's no time to move before the boy from Five jumps in front of us, bearing a sword. Of course. The mutts were designed to bring us in contact with another tribute. Apparently the people in the Capitol need more violence.

I can't even remember the boy's name, though I think it's something along the lines of Circuit. He looks half-crazed as his eyes dart back and forth to size us up. Then he lunges for Kai and I jump in and disarm him. He's tackling me and trying to grab his weapon back when Kai kills him. Seconds ago, he was approaching us. Now he is dead on the ground. I'm so tired of seeing people die.

I'm still here with Kai for the rest of the night, but I'm distant. All of this is getting to me. I'm not mad at Kai for doing what he had to do, but I'm not happy about it, either.

"Mags? Why are you acting like I'm not even here? If I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted me to let him kill you!" He's mad at me now. I don't know how to make him understand.

"It's not that, Kai! I'm not mad at you, but I will be if you keep accusing me of it!"

"What is it, then?"

"You wouldn't understand anyway," I say, rolling my eyes at him. Why am I doing this?

He raises his voice even louder. "What makes you think I wouldn't?"

I stand up and kick a branch that must have fallen during the last storm. "Because you never do! I already tried to explain it to you, and you thought I was talking about the amount of light in the arena!" I don't want to argue with him, but I'm low on sleep and in a very bad mood. "Forget it. I'm going find some berries," I snap at him.

"Fine then," I hear him say, but I am already gone. I'm so angry and I don't even know why. There's no particular person who's upsetting me; I'm just mad at the world itself. I find a berry bush and start picking them so angrily and I accidentally rupture several of them. I drop them all when I hear the scream. Kai's scream.

All my anger is forgotten. Nothing matters more to me in this moment than protecting my cousin. The canon booms, and this time I can feel it inside of my bones. No, this can't happen. No, this must be some sick prank. Or a dream. Kai can't be dead. He can't be.

But he is. I rush back to where the scream originated from to find Kai's lifeless body on the ground. Osten is standing above him, withdrawing the spear from Kai's midsection.

He. Killed. My. Cousin.

I didn't even get to say goodbye! He died while we were angry at each other. I can never apologize now. Osten took him from me. I hate him. I hate him so much. So much that I'm rushing toward him with my knife raised before I can even think about it. He turns to me just as I bury my weapon into his heart.

Another canon booms. Osten's dead, and that leaves me feeling strangely satisfied. It takes a full minute for reality to set in. Then my hands immediately cup over my mouth and the bloodlust and rage disappears.

_What have I done?_

I just killed a boy without thinking twice about it. It wasn't like finishing off the little boy from Seven. This was not a kill of mercy. I wanted him dead. I was glad when he fell to the ground. Sobs begin racking my body so hard that I can't breathe.

I can see it now: Osten's parent's holding their newborn baby boy. He had a tuft of whitish blond hair and big blue eyes. It was the happiest day of their life. They brought Osten into this world and I took him out of it.

My main goal in these Games wasn't even to win. I'm not going to delude myself into thinking I will. No, I decided to follow my father's advice and not let the Games make me forget who I am inside. I've failed him. I've failed myself. Mags Brine would never, ever kill another human being. Kai was already gone; I couldn't have helped him. I should have run, but I chose to kill Osten out of hate. That's how I know the Games have corrupted me.

My dead cousin is the only thing that can snap me out of this moment. I turn to him and lay my head on his shoulder and somehow, impossibly, I start sobbing harder.

"I'm sorry, Kai. I should have protected you," I get out between sobs.

I clutch his rough hand. This is the same hand I held when we would walk down the beach as toddlers. His blue eyes are still open. My aunt said eyes are the portal to the soul. That's why Kai's are empty. There's nothing left inside of him. I pull my fingers over his eyelids and close his eyes because I can't bear to look at them. I stay here, clutching someone who's already gone because I don't want them to take him away. They've taken enough from me already. Eventually, I have to accept he's already gone from my reach.

I back away to let the hovercraft remove the bodies. I'm hunched over because I'm crying so hard it's painful. I don't hate Osten anymore. The only person I hate now is myself.


	13. Victor

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! Please, keep them coming! Also, this chapter gets pretty gory because it's the final fight of the Games. **

A person can only take so much before they shut down. It becomes too difficult to deal with the situation at hand, whether it be from physical or emotional trauma. I think I've reached my limit.

I'm in the final five. Is that supposed to make me happy? I feel like I've already lost. From the very beginning, I understood that Kai and I could not both survive. Still, there is absolutely nothing that could have prepared me for what happened.

Kai wasn't supposed to die while we were mad at each other. He wasn't supposed to leave this world without a goodbye, but he did. Osten killed Kai and I killed Osten, and it feels horrible.

People are probably laughing at how pathetic I'm acting, but I don't care anymore. They've put me through more strife than they could ever imagine. I can throw my own pity party if I want to. I spend the night curled up against a rock, crying and playing out scenarios of what I should've done. Over-thinking things has always been a major flaw of mine. My mind decides to trap in every mistake I make and play it over and over again so I can never forget.

The major themes of my thoughts tonight are regret and disgust. I'm disgusted with myself, of course, but the more I think, the more disgusted I get with the Capitol. When did it become acceptable to use other's pain as entertainment? Maybe it's not just them. Maybe all humans are evil deep inside. It didn't take long for me to turn on another person. Why do we even agree to play these Games? Sure, most people are forced to enter the arena, but no one is really forced to kill others. That decision belongs to the individual.

I started out with good intentions. The thing is, I didn't realize the Games were changing me until I already had blood on my hands.

A silver parachute drops in front of me sometime during the night. I can tell immediately that it's a loaf of bread from District Four. Reminding me of home is probably an attempt to cheer me up, but it only makes me feel worse. I push it aside and lay back down, letting the blades of grass brush over my face.

It's morning when I hear footsteps approaching me. I don't even move. There's no doubt in my mind now that death would be easier than living with what I've seen. I was never exactly victor material, anyway. My eyes shut automatically as I wait for the end.

"Mags?" I hear a voice ask in concern. I open my eyes and see Crystal kneeling down in front of me. "Are you okay?" she asks.

She looks worse than the last time I saw her, but I'm sure I do, too. Her frame is even thinner than before and a mosaic of bruises and scratches cover her body. There's a torn up grass bandage wrapped around her arm, but I can see a deep gash under it.

I almost tell her that I'm fine before deciding against it. Lying won't change what happened. "I don't even know what okay is anymore," I say.

"I know, right?" she replies, giving a half-hearted attempt at a smile. It turns into a frown quickly. "I saw your district partner's face in the sky. I'm really sorry."

"Not your fault," I say weakly.

"I know, but I still feel bad." Her hazel eyes shift from me to the untouched bread still sitting in the parachute.

"You can have it," I tell her.

She just shakes her head. "No, it's yours. Come on, sit up and eat."

I reluctantly pull myself up. When I do, Crystal looks at me with a pained expression.

"What happened to your cheek?" she asks.

It takes me a minute to realize she's talking about the spot where Osten slapped me days ago. I'd forgotten it was there. The bruise must not have faded yet.

"That was my punishment for letting you escape," I tell her with a shrug. "It doesn't hurt anymore. No big deal compared to your injuries," I say, scanning her again.

She uses my knife to slice into the bread and hands a piece to me. "I shouldn't have left you there. The guilt's been eating me alive. I was so scared he would kill you."

I swallow hard and push the bread away. Suddenly I feel like crying again. Before I can stop myself, words begin flooding out of my mouth. "He wanted to, but he didn't. I ran away with my cousin and he found us last night. I killed him," I get out before sliding back down against the rock. "I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I forgot that when I saw Kai was dead." My tears have made a reappearance, and I do my best to hide them.

To my surprise, Crystal doesn't run away or even get mad. Instead, she sits down next to me and sighs. "No one blames you for that, Mags. You loved your cousin. It was a natural reaction to hurt what was hurting him. If you were really a cold blooded murderer, you wouldn't feel remorse."

"You really think so?" I ask , and she nods. I feel a little better now with some of the guilt out of the way. It doesn't help my despair over Kai's death, though. I miss him too much.

"Crystal, how did you deal with it when your brother died?" I ask. Then, fearing this might not be something she's willing to talk about, I add, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"No, it's fine," she says sadly. "I was nine when he volunteered. He made it pretty far, and I really thought he was going to win. It broke my heart to see him get killed. I didn't know what to do after that. My family was destroyed…I didn't understand how life could go on normally…" she trails off.

I'm about to say something when she continues. "But it did. That's the thing, it always does. The world doesn't stop and wait for you to recover. The only option is to get up and find something worth living for. For every reason to give up, there's a million reasons to go on."

"Like being there for a future family," I breathe out, remembering what Alec told me the night before the Games.

"Right," she nods, and I notice she's crying. I don't want her to die. She deserves to go back to her family and save them from more heartbreak, but I have people who need me, too.

"That's just what I needed to hear," I say. "I hope you win if I don't."

She blinks away her tears and smiles at me. "Let's eat. We can figure out what to do later."

Hours ago, looking the green-tinted bread made me feel bad, but now it makes me stronger. I can see now that it was meant to give me a reason to keep fighting. Crystal tells me that she's been hiding out in the mountains for the last few days. She was taking a walk outside the caverns formed by the rocks when she was chased by the same mutts Kai and I saw. That's how she got the gash in her arm. Luckily, she got medicine for it, and I apply some to the bite mark on the back of my leg. We spend the rest of the day talking about our lives back home. The more I get to know Crystal, the more something bothers me.

"I'm really glad you found me," I start nervously, "but I think it's better we split up tonight. There's so many ways an alliance at this part of the Games can go wrong. I don't think I can bear to see another person close to me die, and there's no way I could kill you if it came down to us."

I look over to her to see her reaction. She's looking off into the distance, deep in thought. "I guess you're right. It's going to take a lot of luck for either of us to win the final fight, though."

As much as I would like to deny it, I know she speaks the truth. I think of the other three finalists. Tough and lethal Kim and the threatening girl from Seven. The dark skinned boy from Eleven has a strong build, but I never paid much attention to him. He's definitely the dark horse of this year.

I don't want to kill anyone else, but that's the price I have to pay to get home. "Yeah," I reply. "If only there were a way to just slide by while the others fight it out…"

Before long, a warm dusk has set in and Crystal and I say our goodbyes. She's heading back towards the mountains to retrieve some supplies she left there. I decide to walk back to the Cornucopia before the gamemakers get those weird mutts to chase me there.

The next day is the first whole day I've gone in the arena without any human contact. I start getting lonely, but there's also a certain amount of peacefulness to it. There's no obligation to protect anyone else. The only person I have to worry about it myself, and, for some reason, that comforts me.

It's the ninth day of the Games, and I can see signs that they are coming to a close. Around noon, I start smelling smoke and poke my head into the clearing to see there's a fire on the opposite side of the high grass. I don't hear any canons. A few hours later, I hear a horrible crashing sound and turn around to see huge rocks sliding down the mountains. Immediately, I'm worried about Crystal. What if she's trapped under there? I don't hear a canon yet, so she must still be alive, but that doesn't mean she isn't injured. It takes about five minutes of mental debating to convince myself that I can't worry about her safety. There can only be one victor, and I need that to be me.

I'm on the edge of the trees when darkness falls and the Capitol anthem plays. There are no faces in the sky tonight, so the gamemakers' traps must not have worked. Something tells me this is the last night I'm spending in the arena. In the distance, I can see the shadowy silhouettes of the mutts. They're leaping towards the back of the arena, probably to push remaining tributes to the front so we can have a five-person fight to the death.

It takes about two minutes for me to realize sleep will be impossible. I'm too anxious about tomorrow, and I can feel it slowly turning into panic. There's no way I can take four people down on my own, nor do I want to. I'm so sick of letting the Capitol move me around like a puppet. I crouch down in the grass and lay my face on my knees.

There has to be a solution here. Some middle ground between staying true to myself and dying or letting the Capitol turn me into a monster and have a shot at winning. I resolve that I will kill only if necessary. All my attacks will be in self-defense. It still doesn't seem good enough, though.

The words I told Crystal yesterday weave in and out of my mind. "If only there were a way to just slide by while the others fight it out…" I repeat. I can't hide from the fight because the gamemakers will drag me into it. The only way the others will disregard me is if they think I'm dead. Maybe, just maybe, if I play dead, I can slide by until there's only one person left, and they will surely be tired by then. It's risky, and there's countless ways it could go horribly wrong.

It might just be the best I can do. The rest of Panem would laugh at me for being a coward, but at least my father would understand I'm trying to follow his advice. Even though there's really no rules in the Hunger Games, I'm sure this isn't something the gamemakers would like. They want to steal humanity and turn kids into animals for entertainment. If my plan goes right, I would be cheating the system. Who cares? It's time for me to write the rules. They can play my game.

I decide to finish making my way to the Cornucopia before dawn. It takes hours of steady jogging, but I eventually make it to the lake. Now it's just a fifteen minute walk. Before I go, I refill my bottles and hydrate myself.

I slink inconspicuously through the grass, nervous that someone will see me and attack. What if Kim is still camping out at the Cornucopia? It's too late to turn back now.

Luckily, there's no one there when I arrive. I crawl into the golden horn and feel nauseous when I remember this is the very spot where Blade bled to death. I'm sure I could still see the bloodstains if it wasn't so dark. Something shiny catches my eye towards the back of the horn. Sitting there are the remains of our weapons pile. It's not much, but I pick up three throwing knifes that might come in handy.

What do I do now? I know I need to make myself look like a wreck so I can pull off being as good as dead. But when are the others even coming? As if to answer my question, an announcement booms through the arena.

"Congratulations on making it to the final five! We would like to invite you to a feast at the Cornucopia at dawn. Make sure to come!" There's a static sound, then the intercom shuts off.

A feast? That's a first. Usually tributes are just chased to the center of the arena. The difference is that this year's arena is bigger than usual. I guess it's more difficult to round the tributes up, so they need compliance from the tributes themselves. I really doubt there's actually going to be any food. At least I know when to expect the others.

A little before dawn, I start preparing myself. I start by ripping at my already blood stained clothes and hair. Then comes the hard part: cutting into my own skin. I really don't want to, but I know it's necessary for my plan to work. I need to look as pitiful as possible. I'm careful to not cut too deep and to avoid spots where I really could bleed to death. It's still agony. Pain shoots all through my body and blood seeps over my skin. I have to bite down hard on the knife to keep from screaming, though some moans still escape. I smear blood over my face and make a small incision in my forehead.

I'm already regretting this plan. I didn't take the sheer amount of pain into account. It's still just dark enough to conceal myself when I drag my body out into the grass, whimpers escaping me with every movement. My knives are tucked into one part of my shirt that isn't all torn up so I can grab them at a moment's notice. Then, I decide I might as well let the screams out.

I scream at the top of my lungs, releasing every pain I have experienced. The physical pain that I just inflicted on myself. The emotional pain of losing Kai. The screams almost scare me because they sound so foreign coming from my mouth. These aren't the type of screams I'm used to. I recognize them as screams of the hopeless, sounds of pure fear and agony.

The sky lightens and I'm still screaming and moaning. Just then, a table rises from out the ground, and it's packed with the delicious foods of the Capitol. A dark figure jolts out into the clearing and heads straight for the table. It's the boy from Eleven. He stuffs food into his mouth at an alarmingly fast rate. I'm so stunned that he passed me up completely that I fall silent. I'm still hurting, but maybe it's time to "die."

I'm peering at him through half-closed eyes as he turns around and looks at me. His cheeks are stuffed with rolls, just like a chipmunk. Where are the others? They're supposed fight and pay no attention to me. The boy edges closer to me and studies me hard. Then he pulls out a slingshot and a rock, directing it at my skull.

I might be the dumbest person to ever play these Games. What was I thinking when I came up with this plan? I clutch my knife, preparing to jump up and attack before he can kill me, but something happens before I do.

The boy's mouth opens and the rolls slide out all at once. Blood follows the food and gushes out onto my face. Then he falls over on top of me and a canon booms.

What just happened!

He weighs much more than me, and one of his arms fell into my deepest gash. I bite my lip in pain until that's bleeding, too, and subtly shift his arm out of my wound. I peer out from under the boy to see what's going on. The girl from Seven is pulling an axe out of his back.

"Sorry about that, but you needed to die," she says. It's hard to tell if she's really sorry or not. Her brown eyes are burning with determination.

I almost jump when I hear another loud noise. It take me a second to realize that it was thunder, not a canon. Of course another rainstorm is coming, because, you know, fighting in the sun just isn't entertaining enough for the precious people of the Capitol.

The rain starts pouring down hard almost immediately. I can see it washing out the pool of blood surrounding me and the corpse laying on top of me. I see Kim race into the clearing from my little space. Her and the District Seven girl start fighting almost immediately.

It occurs to me that I might be in the safest place right now. No one's going to kill the girl laying motionless under a dead body.

The fight is horrifying to watch. The two girls are a perfect match for each other when it comes to combat. They supply each other with injury after injury in the downpour. Even with the howling wind, I can hear their cries of pain and tortured voices as they curse at each other.

I see another girl run into the high grass from the tree line. Crystal. She's dragging her leg behind her and even from here, I can tell it looks hopelessly mangled. She's running to me.

"Mags!" she's crying, at least I think. It's too hard to hear. In that moment, Kim tears the axe from the girl she's fighting with and chops off Seven's arm. I shriek soundlessly because it reminds me too much of Blade's detached arm. I throw up the last meal I ate, which is gross because there's no where for it to go but right under my face.

Kim makes a dash for Crystal and pins her down to the ground. No. No. No.

She aims her sword into Crystal's body: once, twice, three times. She's torturing her. NO!

I don't know where I find the strength, but I push the corpse off of me and limp-run over to them, leaving a heavy trail of blood behind me. It's getting difficult to even see them in the thick sheets of rain, but I slam myself into Kim's body. She reacts immediately, tearing at my skin and making my cuts open more. She kicks me hard and I start to feel like I might lose consciousness. Instinctively, I pull the throwing knifes out of my shirt and aim them at her. My arm's too weak to hit critical areas, but she still falls over backwards and cries out in pain.

I drag myself over to Crystal, worried that her canon already boomed and I mistook it for thunder. She's alive, but barely. I shake her and watch as blood drips down onto her from me.

"Don't go! Don't go!" I scream loudly so she will hear me. It's not fair. She doesn't deserve to die, especially not like this!

Her hazel eyes look dazed as she stares at me. "Win," she mouths to me. Then her eyes drift shut and I hear a loud noise that must be her canon.

I want to die. I want to die now. Suddenly I can't remember a single thing that is worth fighting for.

My head weakly whips back around to see where Kim is. To my surprise, she is only maybe two feet away, edging towards me slowly. She looks half dead. I feel half dead.

She leaps on me and we roll around, clawing at each other. Both of us are weakened. I feel myself slipping away several times. My abdomen aches and I feel like something vital has been punctured. I can't see because my eyes are filled with blood and I can't breathe because Kim has her arms in a choke hold around my throat.

It would be so easy to let the darkness overtake me now. So much less painful. I almost do, but I know in the back of my mind that it will only cause pain for my family.

This isn't the way I want to die. My hands are shaking as they reach for the knife that fell out into the grass. My lungs feel as tiny and shriveled as they do when I stay underwater for too long and nearly drown. I finally get a hold on the knife and jab it into the only spot I can reach: Kim's side.

It wouldn't do much if there wasn't already a gaping wound there. Kim's grasp on my neck loosens, and she collapses on top of me. I'm too weak to push her off. Shallow, panicked gasps are coming from my throat as my lungs try to refill themselves with air. All I taste is blood and rain.

"I'm sorry," I gasp as I watch Kim's eyes flutter shut for the last time. The final canon of the Games booms and the sky clears up immediately.

The intercom clicks on again and Nathaniel's voice echoes through the grasslands. "I present to you the victor of the twelfth annual Hunger Games, Magnolia "Mags" Brine of District Four!"


	14. Recap

**A/N: This chapter was originally going to include the post-Games interview, but, for length reasons, I decided to move it to the next chapter. Thanks again for the continued support! Starting with this chapter, I'm going to reply to guest reviews on my profile.**

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I'm not sure what I expected to feel in my first seconds as victor. Triumph, maybe? Happiness that I can finally return to my family? Victors have always seemed strong and powerful, more celebrity than actual human being. I don't feel strong or powerful or triumphant. The only way I could describe myself in this moment is broken. Broken and on the verge of death.

A ladder drops down in front of me. How do they expect me to grab it? It's like I've forgotten how to move my arms. Kim's body is lying across my chest, weighing me down, and I'm still struggling to see and breathe. Someone must help me up because the next thing I know, I'm in the hovercraft. Blackness pulls me under every few seconds, making it impossible to tell what's going on. I hear urgent voices and beeping machines. Someone jabs me with a needle and I'm out again, this time for much longer.

The next time my eyes open, I'm in a white hospital room. The stiffness in my joints suggests I've been unconscious for a while. I can't remember why I'm here. Then it dawns on me. I was in the Hunger Games with Kai. I survived and he didn't. My heart rate picks up and I feel a breakdown coming. It never comes, though, because I'm immediately knocked out again.

This pattern continues for a while. I'm never exactly sure how much time has passed between each awakening, but I start feeling stronger and more lucid each time. There are other changes, too. All the scars on my body are slowly but surely disappearing. By the sixth time I wake up, they are gone without a trace.

Usually there's a doctor or nurse with me when I regain consciousness, but I'm all alone this time. All the tubes are gone from my body and a note lies on the little table next to me. It says that my stylist will be with me by noon and that the Games Highlights will be held tonight. It's nine o'clock right now.

I'm suddenly extremely eager to get out of bed and walk around. I pull myself out of the sheets and realize I'm naked. Luckily, there is a thin white robe hanging on the opposite side of the room. My legs are surprisingly strong as I walk to it. I'm just about to grab the robe when I catch sight of myself in a mirror.

Apart from the fact that I look polished, the most shocking difference is my chest. Even before the Hunger Games, I had a pretty childish shape because I'm so small and skinny. Marilla had practically the same chest size as me. I guess the Capitol considered that an imperfection because they fixed it, along with the rest of my body's flaws. It makes me feel uncomfortable, like this body isn't really mine. I turn away from the mirror and pull the robe tightly around me.

Unsure of what to do with myself, I pace around the small room for about twenty minutes. I refuse to get back in bed. Eventually, I decide it won't hurt to walk around outside my room for a while, as long as I'm back before noon. I open the door tentatively and proceed to wander aimlessly through the barren halls.

I've just rounded the third corner when I hear a voice coming from somewhere not far away. I freeze instantly and listen.

"I just can't wait for tonight! I bought the perfect dress and the heels were buy one get one half-off! That way Mags can wear one pair and we'll match!"

I'd know that gushy voice anywhere! Isidora! I never thought I would be so happy to see her. My feet plop against the cool tile as I run down the hall and around the corner to meet her. When she comes into my line of vision, I see Alec is with her. I surprise myself by letting out a squeal and running even faster. Seconds later, I have my arms wrapped tightly around him, squeezing as hard as I can. I didn't realize how much I missed him until just now.

"Whoa, Mags, I need to breathe," he says, but he's smiling.

"Sorry!" I say, stepping back from him. It's the first thing I've said since the arena, and my voice is hoarse from misuse.

"Don't worry about it," Alec says. "I'm glad to see your doing better."

I open my mouth to ask him how long it's been since I left the arena, but Isidora interrupts me with a question. "What are you doing out of your room?"

"I…needed to exercise my legs." Hopefully that's an acceptable excuse.

She shakes her head vehemently. "No, we can't have that. Come on, let's get you back in your room before Lilith sees you're missing." She puts her hands around my shoulders and begins directing me back down the hall.

Alec walks alongside us. "Isidora, she's been in that bed for over three days. You can't blame her for wanting to walk around," he tells her.

I nod in agreement. "Can you two at least stay with me until she gets there?"

"I guess so," Isidora says pensively.

I smile widely and thank her before she can change her mind. It's nice to have the two of them in the room with me. We exchange small talk, and I'm grateful neither of them bring up my experience in the arena. I know I have to face it tonight, but I would rather just not think about it. It's silly, but I can't help but think ignoring it will make the bad memories go away.

Lilith walks in just after noon, holding a large bag. She waves her hand as a signal for Isidora and Alec to leave. Without acknowledging me, she pulls a floor-length white ball gown out of the bag. White isn't exactly the color you would pair with someone who just won the Hunger Games, but it's better than blood red.

"Take off the robe," she instructs.

I slide it off and she helps me into the dress. It's strapless and silky against my skin. I look in the mirror and inspect it. The dress is low cut enough to show off my new cleavage and is skin-tight down to the waist. From there, it falls to the floor in rounded layers. Lilith hands me white gloves with yellow accents. They reach my elbows.

"It's nice," I say in approval.

"You haven't seen the full effect yet," she tells me. "I've been envisioning this dress since I heard your name called at the reaping. I'm glad I'm getting the chance to see it on you." That might just be her twisted way of saying she's happy I survived.

The prep team enters, bursting with excitement. I'm excited to see them, too.

"I was so scared for you in that final fight!" Faria tells me. "I'm so glad you made it out over that District Two girl. I was rooting for you the entire time. So was my daughter."

"I'll have to meet her one day," I say as she styles my hair into a curly side ponytail. I'm amazed that they were able to save my hair from the matted mess it had become.

Zia and Soma set golden jewelry around my neck and put a round, yellow clip into my hair. I don't understand why they are accenting the white with yellow until I look in the mirror again.

"I'm a magnolia," I say softly. Now I can see how the rounded layers of the dress are meant to look like petals.

"True to your name," Lilith says with a nod. "Now stand up straighter and smile. You're a victor now. Show some pride!"

I promise I'll try. Faking it for one night can't be too hard.

After I'm declared ready to go, I'm escorted into the backstage area. Alec and Kallan are there, and they both look handsome in black dress shirts and pants. They each wear a shiny white tie and belt.

Kallan sees me and immediately walks over to me. "Well if it isn't our newest victor! Welcome to the family!" he says, putting an arm around my shoulder.

"Family?" I ask.

He grins. "Yeah, pretty much. I think you surprised us all. I know I was in shock when you killed that boy from One!"

I know he means well, but that last comment just made this a little awkward. Alec shoots Kallan a warning glance.

Alec clears his throat and says, "I think Kallan was trying to say that victors stick together. You're stuck with us whether you like it or not."

My expression lightens. "I might just be able to deal with that."

"Well I have to go. You two have a nice mentor-tribute moment, if that's what you want to call it," Kallan says, his dark eyes shining as he laughs and walks off.

"What was that about?" I ask in confusion. Alec just shrugs his shoulders.

Some Capitol woman I've never seen before walks up to me with a red envelope in her hand. "Oh, look at you! That full body polish worked wonders. You're on in five minutes, hon. I was told to give this to you," she says, handing me the envelope.

She's gone before I can thank her. I try to slide my finger under the seal gently because the material of the envelope looks expensive, but I eventually give up and just tear it open.

"Is that from President Burns?" Alec asks.

I look at the name on the bottom of the letter. "Yeah. Do you know what this is for?"

"He sends them every victor," he answers nonchalantly.

That makes me feel better. I unfold the letter and hold the edges between my gloved fingers before reading the typed passage.

_Dear Miss Brine:_

_I would like to extend my sincere congratulations to you on winning this year's Hunger Games. Victors are the most respected celebrities in all of Panem, and I am confident you will represent District Four tastefully and with honor._

_Yours Truly, __President Maximus Burns_

Underneath the type is another line written in elegant script.

_It would be a pleasure to meet with you tonight in my mansion. We have a few matters to discuss._

What does he mean by "a few matters to discuss"? If that's normal, why didn't he just include it in the rest of the typed passage?

"Two minutes!" a voice calls from across the room. Wonderful. I'm already nervous about the Games highlights. Now I have to face it with one more thing to worry about. I'm thankful that I'm wearing a floor length dress because my legs are shaking. Actually, my whole body's shaking. I don't want to have to relive my time in the arena. I can't.

"Are you okay?" Alec asks in concern.

"No. I can't do this, Alec! Why do they even need me there to watch a recap?"

Alec sets a hand on my bare shoulder, and my skin feels warm where he touches it. My heart stutters, though I'm not sure whether it's from that or the stress of this situation. "Calm down and look at me," he instructs. I comply, letting my blue eyes drift to his green ones. "I'm not going to help you through this," he begins.

"Isn't that your job?" I snap, feeling betrayed. Realistically, I know he can't help anyway, but it would be nice to hear some encouragement.

"You don't need my help," he continues. "You're stronger than you think. Weak people don't win the Hunger Games. Understand?"

"Okay," I say weakly. I don't feel strong, but it's nice to know he believes in me. Immediately after, I'm ushered onto the stage. Upbeat music is playing and the lights are even brighter than I remember. I instinctively shield my eyes until I remember the whole country is watching. With a gulp, I drop my hands and attempt to glide over to Nathaniel.

When I'm safely seated in the ornate chair, I pull my best fake smile and wave to the audience like Isidora instructed me before the Games.

"I'm delighted to see you tonight, Mags." Nathaniel says. "How are you feeling?"

As far as I know, there's no angle I have to play tonight. "Nervous," I answer honestly.

Nathaniel's dark eyebrows furrow over his red skin. "Nervous? Why there's no need to be! Tonight belongs to you! Everyone's delighted to have you here. Aren't you?" he asks, directing the question to the audience. They cheer in response. "See? Nothing to worry about."

He asks me a few more questions, but it's nothing major because he's saving most of it for tomorrow's interview. My prep team is introduced and receive a huge round of applause from the audience. I clap for them, too. Lilith comes on stage, and I see she's adorned with a new pair of diamond-encrusted glasses for the event. Isidora is beside herself with joy when she gets her moment in the spotlight. It's Alec's appearance that gets the most reaction. He knows how to play the audience just right. I try not to frown where I hear women screaming in admiration.

The three hour recap starts with the reapings and continues onto training and scores. These parts aren't the hardest to watch because nothing awful is happening, but there's still the sadness of knowing all these people are dead. It's especially hard to see Kai. He gets a lot of screen time because of his relation to me.

The real horror starts when the Games begin. I watch myself emerge from the tube and take off running when the gong sounds. It's not long before I notice Kai isn't following me and freeze until the girl from Six forces me to move. After my alliance with the careers is settled, there's a disproportionate amount of screen time given to us. Little snippets show what the other tributes were up to, but it's never long before it goes back to us.

I notice they don't play the part where I comfort the little boy from Seven or when he begs me to kill him; it's just me stabbing him. However, they do show the whole scene of me helping Crystal escape, as well as the swollen cheek I received from Osten immediately after.

The closer it gets to Kai's death, the more nervous I become. It's only a matter of time after the boy from Five dies. I want to turn away after because I don't want to watch my cousin die, but my eyes stay glued to the screen. Part of me has to know how it happened. Osten bursts through the foliage and calls Kai a betrayer as he trusts the spear into his body. I gasp as I hear his scream and I feel like my heart is breaking all over again. It's cruel that they're making me watch this. I bet none of them have never had to watch someone they love be murdered.

My eyes are filling with tears and I try with all my power to make them disappear. I don't need to see what happens next on the recap. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and look away. It doesn't matter; I see myself killing Osten even with my eyes shut. My hands start fiddling with my dress and my necklace as the sound of my sobs fills the stage. If only I had some rope to tie knots with. I don't care if Isidora said it's proper to keep my hands on my lap. It's calming to distract myself.

When I finally open my eyes, I see her glaring at me from the audience. I try my best to act publicly acceptable for the last forty minutes of the highlights. That's not too hard because my whole body feels numb. The only thing that threatens to destroy my calm is the final fight, which is played out in full chaos. The tape shuts off right after I'm announced as victor.

The last event planned for tonight's broadcast is the presentation of the crown. President Burns walks on stage and places it on top my head. His wrinkled skin and piercing yellow eyes are just inches from me, and I desperately want to ask him what it is we need to discuss. I'll just have to wait until later tonight.

Immediately after the show ends, I'm taken to a private car that will serve as my transportation to the victor's banquet. When I get there, I'm not sure whether I should go find the President now or wait for him to retrieve me later. It immediately becomes clear that the answer to that question is later. So many people are crowding around me and asking for pictures that I couldn't escape if I tried. I do my best to be polite and accommodate everyone, but it gets annoying after a while.

The crowds slack off eventually, and I find myself walking around like a lost puppy, looking for anyone who looks remotely familiar. I catch the scent of delicious food and am drawn to the table. My food portions have been kept small since I won. This might be my only chance to have a decent meal before I return home.

Zia bumps into me as I'm sampling a soup. I smile and ask if the rest of my prep team is here.

"They're somewhere around here, but I'm sure you don't want to hang out with us! Go on, have fun and meet new people. Just stay away from the alcohol. You're still young," she says as she refills her wine glass.

I wasn't planning on getting drunk, anyway. My eyes scan the crowded ballroom until I catch sight of Alec. I push my way through the crowd over to him.

"I'm glad I found you," I tell him. "I was starting to feel like a loner standing by myself."

He laughs, and I notice how it forms little creases around his mouth. "You can stay with me. Care for a dance?"

"That might be a little dangerous considering I'm in heels," I joke. I still haven't mastered walking steadily, much less dancing.

"I won't let you fall."

We join hands and Alec wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close. Dancing is rhythmic and soothing. We don't say much, but I'm grateful for it. It's nice to just stay silent and feel his warmth. This is probably the safest I've felt since my name was drawn at the reaping.

Two songs later, a Capitol woman with lilac hair taps me on the shoulder. "Mind if I take a turn?" she asks.

"Sure, no problem," I answer reluctantly. "I have someone to find."

Alec looks at me uncertainly, but I assure him it's fine. Now's the time to meet with Burns. I see him standing at the top of an extravagant staircase. I make my way over to him nervously.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he says in a gravelly tone. His voice doesn't sound as powerful as it used to. I'm sure that has to do with his age. "Come on, let's go back down and get a drink."

I don't refuse the drink when he hands it to me. It's strong and bitter, but it gets a little better with each sip.

"You said we had some matters to discuss?" I ask timidly.

"I like to meet with all of my victors to make sure they understand their new responsibilities. You're a role model now, Miss Mags. Nevertheless, there was something that bothered me about your performance at the end of the Games." He's staring at me, and I find myself looking at the unnatural brightness of his eyes.

His words finally set in. I feel dread creeping up. "What was that?"

"You purposely injured yourself right before the final fight. I was perplexed at first, but it became clear you were trying to cheat your way to the end. Care to explain yourself?"

I was aware that the Capitol wouldn't appreciate it as I made the plan, but I honestly didn't think it would be this big of a deal. "I…I didn't realize there were rules. I thought that was my only shot at winning." A moment passes before I think of something else to add. "I didn't follow through with the plan, anyway. I won because I killed Kim."

He nods slowly, but his eyes are still accusing. "It's true that you came through at the end. Still, anyone watching could see the District Two girl should have won. You're the reason she was too weak to defeat you."

"I'm sorry," I say, not exactly sure why I'm apologizing for not letting Kim kill me. My hands have started to shake slightly. The sloshing of my amber drink makes it obvious. "I don't know what I was thinking. What are you going to do?" I ask. My voice cracks on the last word.

"Nothing as of now," he responds. "Just know that you're treading on thin ice. What you did was an embarrassment to your family, District Four, and the Capitol. I expect full loyalty from you in the future, young lady."

I'm more relieved than frightened by his words. "I understand," I say.

It takes a while for me to fully realize the threat behind his instructions. I'd never understood how the Capitol could have so much influence over a person's life, but now it's as clear as day. Any misstep by me means punishment. After tomorrow's interview, I get to head back home to my family. That doesn't mean I'm safe.

It doesn't matter if I'm a victor; the Capitol's Games never really end.


	15. Reunion

**A/N: Sorry for not uploading yesterday! I was sick and slept all day. I'm still not feeling well, so I apologize if this chapter isn't great :/ Anyway, we're now entering Mags' adult life leading up to Finnick's Games. I plan to write out most of her first year as victor, then just go over main events throughout her life. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

The reality that I get to return home doesn't set in until the next morning. I thought I had seen the last of my family and District Four when I boarded the Capitol train nearly a month ago. Has it really only been a month? It seems like a lifetime ago.

I think about it as my prep team runs a straightener through my hair and does my makeup. I might be headed back home, but things will never be the way they used to be. I'm not going to be known as Mr. Brine's daughter or the girl who makes the nets anymore. My new persona is Mags: Hunger Games victor, and it will define me until the day I die.

There are going to be other challenges, too. My family will have to figure out how to celebrate my win while mourning Kai's loss. I will be forced to mentor every year and watch as my own tributes are slaughtered. The thought makes me anxious.

"You're wasting energy worrying about the interview, you know," Lilith informs me. I'm actually not too concerned about it. I know I can deal with it for an hour or two.

Instead of explaining to her why I'm actually nervous, I change the subject. "What kind of dress am I going to wear this time?"

She snaps her fingers and the twins carry it over. It's not nearly as formal as the other dresses, which is a good thing in my book. The sundress is made out of a lacy orange material that falls halfway down my thigh. A brown belt crosses my midsection. My favorite part about the outfit is that I get to wear brown sandals instead of heels.

Lilith squints at her watch through her thick eyelashes. "We finished a bit early. You're free to go."

I thank them and make my exit. When I peer down the hallway, I see a team of avoxes setting up lights and cameras in the sitting room. I catch a glimpse of Nathaniel's red skin. I'm glad the final interviews aren't held in a big studio audience. Most of my stage fright comes from the overwhelming amount of people directly watching me, so I should have nothing to worry about today.

I repeat the last phrase over and over again in my head. The more I say it, the more it comes out sounding like a question. Should I have something to worry about? My mind drifts back to my drink with President Burns last night. Before I say something on air that I regret, I decide to seek out advice.

It only takes a second to reach Alec's door. He opens it almost immediately and I invite myself in.

"Did I do something wrong? In the arena, I mean."

Alec just looks puzzled. He runs a hand through his dark hair and replies, "Not that I know of. Why are you asking?"

I shuffle my feet awkwardly, not sure how much I should say. "I met with President Burns last night," I begin. "He didn't seem very pleased."

I see understanding flash across Alec's face. "Oh," he says. He looks around the room until he finds a pencil and starts writing something on a torn piece of paper. After he's done, he hands it to me. I scan the words on the page.

_Don't worry about it. You would know if you did something serious. Burns would have found a way to threaten you no matter what. That's his way of welcoming victors. As long as you understand what he was trying to say, you're good._

I run my thumb across the paper and think about what it means. Trying to stay out of the fight might not have been ideal to the Capitol, but it's nothing to warrant punishment. I did nothing wrong. He was just trying to scare me so I would always comply in the future. It was basically his way of telling me he owns me. I grab the pencil from him and write on the back of the paper.

_I get it. Thank you._

I hold it out so he can read it, then I tear the paper up and throw it away.

"Mags!" Isidora calls from the hallway. "I have something for you!"

"Better go see what that's about," Alec says win a grin. Something tells me he already knows. That means it can't be good.

"Yes?" I ask reluctantly, stepping out of the room.

"You can take off those horrid sandals…because I bought you a pair of heels!" she squeals, holding them out to me. I vaguely remember overhearing her say something about this yesterday. The heels are five golden inches of torture. I'm extremely tempted to throw them back and demand she let me wear the sandals, but something in her expression keeps me from doing it.

"Those shoes are just so beautiful," she gushes, dramatically rubbing a tear from her eye. "Make sure to mention in the interview that I bought them for you!" Even though my feet are in pain, I have to shake my head and smile a bit at her nonsense.

After her emotional moment has subsided, Isidora grabs my wrist and directs me to the sitting room. The furniture has been repositioned to fit our needs. Nathaniel and I each get a plush leather recliner. Isidora, Alec, Kallan, Lilith, the prep team, and about seven people I don't recognize are all situated behind the cameras.

Nathaniel signs on and introduces me, as I'm a stranger and all of Panem hasn't been forced to watch me for the last several weeks. I get a warm welcome of applause from my tiny audience.

"Might I say you look lovely this morning, Mags."

"Thank you," I reply easily. "My escort, Isidora Satin, actually picked out these shoes for me."

"They look wonderful. It's a far cry from the shoes you wore in the arena. Speaking of that, what did you think of this year's arena?" he prods.

"I'll admit that I was very nervous when I first saw it. My main concern was how little coverage the trees provided. I wasn't sure I would be able to find a hiding place," I answer.

Nathaniel nods as I speak. When I'm done, he adds, "Of course, you didn't have to worry about hiding after you made the alliance with One and Two. We're all curious to know how that group was set up. At first, it seemed like you planned to go solo."

I shake my head in response. "No, I was under the impression that it would just be Kai and I."

"Oh, yes, we'll talk more about Kai shortly. First, I want to know more about the alliance. You seemed to call yourselves careers. Is that a name one of you came up with?"

"It's the name of the training school they built in Two. Students call themselves careers because they make training for the Hunger Games their profession." I freeze immediately after saying this, because isn't training illegal?

Nathaniel doesn't seem to care. All he says is "How interesting!" before moving onto the next topic. The questions he asks slowly but surely get harder to answer. I'm forced to describe my feelings towards Osten and Kim, even though I don't completely understand them myself. He asks why I chose to let Crystal escape and tried to save Blade. My response that they were good people and deserved my help seems inadequate and unfitting. I eventually take to delivering short, flustered answers to each question.

There's no escaping talking about Kai. "Tell me Mags, how did you feel when you realized your cousin was dead?" Nathaniel asks.

"I felt horrible," I respond. "It was my job to protect him and I failed. There are no words to describe the pain of seeing a family member killed…" I trail off, shivering at the memory. It still doesn't feel real. I keep thinking that the laughing boy I've always known will be waiting for me in District Four.

"We could all see the pain in your expression," Nathaniel says sympathetically as he rests his hand on mine. "How have you been dealing with all of this?"

I swallow hard and force out a long answer. "It seems like my world should just shut down now, because I have to carry Kai's death with me for the rest of my life. How can you get over something like that? But, if there's anything I learned in the Games, it's that life goes on. Crystal taught me that the only direction to move is forward. That's what I would want Kai to do if our situation was reversed."

I really don't want to talk about it anymore, and I think Nathaniel can tell. He asks a few more basic questions about Crystal and Kai before it's time to wrap up. The quality of my answers decline the closer we get to the end, so Nathaniel saves the day with a special announcement.

"It's been a pleasure to have you here this morning. I think I speak on behalf of the entire nation when I say that your story has inspired me. It seems the odds weren't in the favor of your family, yet you still fought to protect each other. It was so inspiring that my wife and I have decided to expand our own family!"

I smile as much as I can. "Congratulations! That's great!" I say. Nathaniel reminds the audience to tune in to the official updates of the pregnancy- I swear, that child will be born an instant celebrity- and thanks me once more before signing off. I sink into my leather chair in relief.

It turns out that I don't have time to relax. We have to get to the train as soon as possible so we can make it to Four before nightfall. Within fifteen minutes, Alec, Kallan, Isidora, and I have all boarded the train. It leaves the station immediately. Now I am forced to wait in anticipation. I watch as the candy colored buildings of the Capitol fade into the distance.

Trips are always faster on the way back, right? It has always seemed that way. I'm not so sure now, though, because I'm excited about this trip back. Excitement is what makes the trip there seem longer in the first place. I consider this until my brain starts to hurt. Then I take to staring out the window to pass the time.

The train has picked up speed, and everything flies by in a whitish-green blur. It kind of hurts my eyes to look at, but I keep them glued to it. I don't turn away until I hear Alec laughing.

"What's so funny?" I ask. He's sitting on the sofa a few feet away from me.

"If only you could see your eyes right now," he replies.

"What about my eyes?"

"Just watch," he instructs. He focuses his eyes on the window, and I watch as his tiny pupils dart back and forth at an alarming rate as they try to keep up with the scenery flashing by. He's right; it does look ridiculous. I giggle and place my hand in front of his line of vision, watching as the pupils focus on my hand and become still again.

"No wonder it hurts to look out the window," I say lightly. My hand is already so close to his face, so I reach forward and brush a lock of dark hair away from his eyes without thinking. He flinches a bit from the unexpected touch, but otherwise doesn't move.

"Don't let Alec take the credit for that, Mags. I was the one who discovered the eye thing," Kallan says from across the room. His muscular body is sprawled out on a red sofa and his feet are hanging off the end. Isidora would probably have a heart attack, but, luckily, she's taking a shower right now.

I pull my hand away from Alec's face and nod in Kallan's direction. The two guys start debating who really discovered it first. I realize then exactly what Kallan meant when he welcomed me to the family. The three of us are going to be neighbors and make trips to the Capitol together every year until we are old and wrinkly. It's hard to picture now, when even the oldest victors are under thirty.

I tune out the guys and let my mind drift back to the family waiting for me at home. The closer we get, the more apprehensive I become. Most of it is about Kai's family. It's ridiculous, I know, but part of me is scared that they will hold me accountable for letting him die. I always will. It doesn't help that I see his dead body in my dreams every night.

Dinner is served about an hour before we are due to arrive. I find that I don't have much of an appetite, even though this is my last chance to eat Capitol food for several months.

Alec doesn't finish his plate, either. "At least I know I'll be eating good from now on," he says as he pushes away his food.

"That's not something I would expect to hear from someone leaving the Capitol," I say.

He smiles smugly. "If I remember correctly, you said you would cook for me when you won the Hunger Games."

I blink twice, trying to remember ever saying that. It does sound vaguely familiar. Then I remember laying on his bed the day before the interview as he told me how hopeless he was at cooking. I responded that I would just have to cook for him when I won.

"Is it too late to back out?" I joke.

"And leave me eating fried fish three times a day?" he asks in mock disappointment. "Just kidding," he adds. "I don't expect you to cook for me. I was just remembering how confident you sounded when you said that. It was what made me realize you really had a shot at winning."

"I didn't really expect to win when I said that. But, I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world for me to bring you some food once a day. We are neighbors now, after all," I say.

We continue talking until an announcement comes over the train's intercom to inform us we have reached District Four. Suddenly overcome by excitement, I jump up and race for the door.

"Hold on!" Isidora screeches. "Wait until I'm done getting ready!" I shoot her an 'are you serious?' expression. She looks the same as always, except she's missing lipstick. I pace in front of the door like an impatient child for ten minutes while Isidora adds finishing touches to her makeup.

"We'd better go now," Kallan says.

Alec nods in agreement. "The sun's about to set."

"Ugh, okay," Isidora says as she walks forward and opens the door. I rush out onto the platform alongside her.

There's no place like home. Home is smelling the subtle scent of salt and fish in the air. Home is hearing the chirps of seagulls overhead. Home is feeling the humidity wrap around you. Most importantly, home is where you see your family eagerly awaiting to welcome you back. Everyone in District Four is crowded around the platform, cheering my name. I see my parents and Kai's family near the front.

My smile is so big that it's hurting the sides of my face. I step forward involuntarily and am met by Marilla and Hallie. They ran under the ropes to come meet me. I wrap my arms around them instinctively.

"I missed you two so much!" I cry out, my voice shaky with emotion. The young girls look excited to see me, but there's a sadness there as well. Their older brother is gone forever.

Marilla's face is contorting in a strange way, and I realize she's holding back tears. Marilla, the tomboy who has always been an expert at controlling her emotions, is holding back tears. I haven't seen her cry since she was seven, and, even then, she was injured. She buries her face into my shoulder to hide her tears.

Hallie is only two years younger, but she is much smaller and more fragile. She wails freely, and I pull her to my chest and kiss the top of her head. I don't realize that I'm crying, too, until her blondish hair sticks to my cheeks.

These girls might not have gone into the Hunger Games, but they were still broken by it. They had to see Osten kill Kai on television. We are nothing but three broken pieces now, but we might just be able to become whole again as we embrace. I don't plan on ever letting them go.

But I do. I feel a tap on my back and turn around to see my parents have walked up behind me. I throw my arms around them, squeezing them as tightly as I can. It makes me feel like a small child, and that's perfectly alright with me. I want to be their baby girl again. Not the victor who killed others out of hate. My mother strokes my back and murmurs to me. Both of my parents look even thinner than before and their worry lines are much more prominent.

The next couple to embrace me are my aunt and uncle. They look grief-stricken, of course, but not angry at me as I had unreasonably worried.

"I'm sorry I could protect him," I whisper sadly.

My uncle shakes his head. My aunt leans over to me. "It's not your fault. Thank you for trying," she says.

After some pictures and news coverage, we are allowed to make our way to my new house in Victor's Village, a series of mansions that line the coast. I breathe in as I walk over the stepping stones that lead up to the house. This is the beginning of the rest of my life.


	16. Questions

**A/N: The last chapter got way more hits and reviews/alerts than usual, and that made me so excited! Y'all are the best! The next update probably won't be until next week because I'm leaving for vacation today. Anyway, my birthday is in two days, so a review would be an awesome present :D… I mean…if you want to. There's no obligation haha**

That night, my father makes a pot of shrimp stew. Even after all the delicacies I have tasted in the Capitol, it is still my favorite because it tastes like home. There's still a sense of incompleteness without Kai there, but, overall, it's nice to have the family together. My new house is extravagant and truthfully too big for a family of three. I tell my aunt that her family can move in if they want. She declines, but I still insist on giving the girls their own rooms in this house. That way, they can come and go as they please.

It's still pretty early when I start nodding off. The combination of excitement for today and my usual nightmares kept me from getting any sleep last night.

"Mom, can we sleep over?" Hallie asks, tugging at my aunt's shirt.

"Not tonight. Mags has had a long day," she answers.

"No, they can stay!," I interject. By now, I'm a little scared of what nightmares will meet me as I fall asleep. As pathetic as it sounds, I would feel safer sleeping with them here. I can be brave for them.

After a bit of discussion, it's settled that they will spend the night. I remind my mother that everything's okay now because she looks unhealthy and thin from stress. Then I walk upstairs with Marilla and Hallie and they show me my room. My family must have moved all my clothes over from the old house after I won. I go back down and make some tea to help me stay awake.

For the next several hours, we act as if the Hunger Games never happened. I sit on the floor and braid back Hallie's hair. Marilla lays on my bed and we recount funny stories of the past. All signs of weakness that inhabited her earlier today have been erased.

Eventually, Hallie falls asleep on the ground and I lift her up into my bed. Marilla and I keep talking late into the night. The later it gets, the more funny her stories seem. I find myself laughing like crazy before she even gets to the humorous part.

"Wow, someone's delirious," she says with a giggle. I don't argue because I know it's true. It gets difficult to hold my eyes open, and I start slipping into unconsciousness. I'm still half-awake when I hear Marilla begin to speak.

"I wish you could have been there when we buried Kai," she whispers sadly. "I miss him so much, more than I ever thought I would. People have been looking at me and Hallie like they feel sorry for us. I don't want anymore pity and I don't want to be treated like a little kid…"

I force my eyes to open. "I know how you feel," I say groggily. "We'll get through this together. You should go to sleep now."

She climbs into bed with me and Hallie, and I don't really care that there are several extra bedrooms they could use. I need to have someone close, at least for tonight. Maybe they feel the same way.

Amazingly, I don't wake up screaming. Morning light is shining through the window the next time I become lucid. My father peeks through the door, already in his fisherman gear, to remind the younger girls that it's time for school. I'm not required to go to school anymore because I won't need to work for the rest of my life. I pull on a T-shirt and shorts and walk them to school after breakfast. I'm not sure what to do with myself after that.

Every time my mother sees me, her blue eyes grow wide and she embraces me like she is certain I will disappear at any second. I guess I can see where she's coming from. Just the idea of the Hunger Games was enough to keep her from having any more kids, not that being an only child put the odds any more in my favor. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to have her with me, but the touchy-feely stuff makes me uncomfortable after a while. I tell her I'm going over to Alec's house and she looks at me questioningly.

"Alec's house? Is there something you need to tell me, Mags?"

"No," I answer. "I promised him I would feed him if I won. I kind of owe him for helping me survive." I scoop some of the leftover shrimp stew into a plastic container because it's too good not to share. This should be good for lunch. I'll help him make dinner.

I'm about to walk out the door when the casual clothes I'm wearing suddenly seem inadequate. I run back upstairs and change into a nicer blouse and skirt and inspect my hair to make sure it's presentable. My mother smiles knowingly as I walk back downstairs, but I ignore it.

It only takes a minute to walk next door to his house. I knock on the door with my free hand and listen to the footsteps approaching. Alec opens the door a minute later, and the first thing I notice is that he looks like he just recently woke up. It's almost cute how messy he looks.

"I brought lunch! My dad cooked this, but I'll help with dinner," I announce, holding up the container of stew.

"Sounds good to me," he says as he lets me in. His house looks very simply like there's a nineteen year old guy who lives there: messy and unkempt.

A large, wiry haired dog runs up to me and tries to jump on me. Startled, I move back a bit. The dog is almost as tall as me when he stands on his hind legs.

"Russ! Get down now!" Alec instructs, and the dog obeys immediately. Russ lays on his back on the floor with his paws still moving. I set the food down on the table and bend down to pet him. I've always had a soft spot for animals. My family never owned one because, even though we were well off, we didn't have enough money to afford the expenses of a pet.

"Aw, he just wants attention," I say as I rub his russet belly. "Is he a fishing dog?" I ask.

"Yeah, he keeps me company. How long should I warm up the stew for?" he responds.

I walk over to the stove and pour it in a pot. "It should only take a few minutes." Then his last words register in my head. "You live here alone?" I ask.

He leans against the counter. "You're surprised? I am an adult, you know."

"I never said you weren't. It's just I live with my family so I assumed you did, too," I say with a shrug. I keep stirring the stew until it's warm enough. "It's done," I tell him.

I pour it into a bowl and set it on the table. "Try not to burn yourself," I say with a smile.

"Alright, Mom," he jokes. "This is really good," he says after a few bites.

"I had a feeling you'd like it. Now lets see what you have in your pantry." I've started to inspect the shelves with a picture sitting on the counter a few feet away catches my eye. I move over to it and pick it up, rubbing my thumb along the texture of the frame. In the picture, I see a younger Alec next to a woman who must be his mother. She is holding a rosy-cheeked little boy who looks to be about two or three years old. That must be Alec's baby brother.

Judging by Alec's age in the photo, I would guess it was taken maybe a year before he went to the Hunger Games at sixteen. I can't help but wonder where this family is now. I know Alec's old enough to live on his own, but wouldn't he rather his family live comfortably in a mansion instead of the little wooden houses spread around the District?

"You're little brother is really adorable," I say quietly. Alec's expression suddenly looks alarmed, but he pulls it into a poker face a moment later. He walks over and gently removes the frame from my hand before he places it back on the counter, facing away from me.

"Yep, that's little Tommy," he says too casually.

A realization hits me. "Wait, I thought you told me you didn't have any siblings?" I say in confusion. I search his eyes for answers.

"Don't worry about it, okay? It's complicated," he answers quickly. Then he walks into the pantry and starts naming foods that we could possibly make.

I'm not letting it drop that easily. "Alec…" I begin nervously. "Did…did something happen to them?"

He turns around and speaks in a surprisingly harsh tone. "Drop it, Mags. I don't want to talk about that right now." I flinch a bit because he is usually so patient and kind.

I almost give up then, but I feel like I've ventured past the point of no return. Now I have to know, especially if it's something serious. I muster up a calm voice and speak. "You can tell me, Alec. We're both victors. We're in this together. I promise not to tell anyone. Please, you can trust me."

That just seems to make him angrier. It's clear I have struck a nerve. "I think you should go," he snaps at me.

I stare at him, dumbfounded. "You're kicking me out?" I ask. "What about dinner and.."

"I said you should go," he repeats.

I'm not sure why I feel so hurt right now. I don't look his way as I turn around and walk out the front door. I make sure to slam it on the way out. It doesn't seem like a good idea to go home, either, because my mother can read me like an open book, and I will no doubt have to endure her questions. I walk down the hill and past the sand dunes to reach the beach.

I can't decide if I'm mad at Alec or not. I'm upset that he treated me this way when I was clearly just trying to help. Does he have any idea how much I care about him? Clearly there's a lot I don't know about his past.

The only person who might know is Kallan. I consider going to his house, but quickly decide against it. I'm not really that close to him. Instead, I walk along the beach where the water hits the sand. The cool waves break near the shore and extend over my feet, only to withdraw seconds later. My footsteps leave indentations in the ground that are quickly filled by the roll of the tide. Every now and then, I pass a pier and watch as the fisherman climb onto their boats and sail out into the distance.

I pause when I recognize a rock that signifies this spot of the beach as the place my father would bring me when I was small and innocent. It makes me think of the little toddler in the picture at Alec's house. So tiny, cute, and pure. How could the Capitol do something to hurt him? I know they aren't above killing children, but how could any human being hurt a baby? Alec must have made a really big mistake. I could understand him getting angry at me for bringing up something he holds himself responsible for. That doesn't mean I like it. I decide that I'll give Alec space for now, but mark my words, I _will_ find out what's going on here. My own family needs protection.

I keep walking until it's almost time to pick up my cousins from school. They're old enough now to walk home on their own, but I really have nothing better to do at the moment. I'm a little early when I reach the school. The upper grades are the only ones that have already been released. I settle on going wait at a little coffee shop that a bunch of the high schoolers hang out at, even if they don't buy anything. I recognize a bunch of kids from my classes, and even those who I never talked to much approach me to say congratulations. It's strange that I'm getting more attention than usual because I feel completely detached from this whole aspect of my life.

I wish they wouldn't see me as a celebrity. I just want my life to return to normal. Hoping for that is a bit of a lost cause, though.

A smile spreads across my face when I see two close friends of mine walk in. Their names are Coral and Kate, and the three of us always ate lunch together and sometimes hung out after school. Neither of them came see me after the reaping, but I can't really blame them for that. I feel a little guilty myself for not thinking about them much during the Games. Coral sees me and jumps up in excitement before directing Kate over to my table.

"It's so good to see you!" I say happily. They both talk about how much they missed me eating with them and fill me in on everything I missed while I was gone. Coral is as jumpy and spastic as always. Kate is much more reserved, yet still nice and happy to see me. I nod as I listen to their stories, even though most don't really matter much to me anymore since I'm never going back to school.

"Oh, I'm really sorry about Kai," Kate adds after. "We went to his funeral."

"I wish I could've been there," I respond sadly.

"No, it's better you stayed in the Game and survived. We wouldn't have wanted a double funeral," she says confidently.

"Yeah, you're like famous now!" Coral squeals, leaning over the table.

I have always been somewhat of a third wheel in our little group since Coral and Kate have known each other for longer, but I'm glad they didn't forget about me in my absence. Maybe, just maybe, my life can return back to normal if I stick with them. That hope dims the longer our conversation goes, because I tense up several times as they mention the Games and my mind keeps drifting back to worrying about Alec.

"Is something wrong?" Coral asks after my expression has turned to a frown. "You seem different."

"I feel different," I admit.

They look at me sympathetically. Coral grabs my hand and Kate tires to encourage me. "We're sorry, Mags, but look at the bright side. You can get whatever you want now. Don't you still like that senior…um…what's his name…Doc? He can't turn you down now!"

I pull my mouth into a straight line. "I haven't even thought about him in forever. Besides, then he would just like me because I'm a victor. That doesn't seem right." I really couldn't care less about how rich or famous I am now, anyway. None of it can make up for what the Hunger Games took from me. No one could really understand that without experiencing the arena themselves.

Coral's eyes light up. "Are you saying there's someone else you're interested in?"

I laugh uncomfortably and glance at the clock. "Guys, I have to go pick up my cousins," I say, dodging the question. They remind me to keep in touch, and then I'm gone.

The girls are standing among the other younger kids. "How was school?" I ask.

Neither of them seem to think the academics are worth talking about. Hallie launches into a story of how a mean teacher fell out of her chair. Marilla mentions that she still can't walk down the halls without getting sympathetic stares or being called "poor Marilla."

"They'll find something else to talk about soon," I assure her. People have a way of reacting to something all at once and forgetting what they cared about the second something new comes along. Soon enough, this year's Games will be old news.

For the next few days, I do whatever I can to keep myself occupied. Working at least makes me feel like I have a purpose. I can sit around all day if I like, but that would be submitting to my thoughts and memories. I'm quickly learning that my mind is my own worst enemy. I put my all into everything I do, whether it be scrubbing the tiles of the kitchen until they gleam or watering the garden. Going to the market to buy groceries or examining a list of possible talents to master. Collecting seashells with my cousins or making lemonade for the grass cutting crew. Fishing at the pier or crafting rope nets. It helps me feel accomplished, but my thoughts always, always go in the direction I don't want them to. Lately that has been thinking too much about Alec in a mixture of frustration and worry.

On the fourth day, I catch sight of Alec and Kallan as I am taking the garbage out. Luckily, they don't see me. I half-watch as they tell each other goodbye and Alec walks closer to his house. I'm almost positive I'm going to make it back to my own house without him noticing me when he sees me and calls my name. Maybe I have been planning out talking to him for days, but in the moment, I decide I would rather ignore him and walk away. I'm not sure what kind of game we're playing. All I know is I'm not letting him win this easily.

"Mags! Come on, can't you at least listen?" he calls out to me. I make a beeline for my door, but he meets me there first, jumping in front of me so fast that I bump into him. The first thing I notice is that his shirt is half-unbuttoned and I can see his chest underneath. Great. Another thing to distract me when I'm supposed to be mad.

"What?" I ask expectantly.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know I overreacted and it wasn't your fault. It's just that there are some things from my past that I don't like to remember. You know as well as I do that it's easier to forget things than to relive them over and over again," he says breathlessly.

I really wish I could deny that. Haven't I been doing the same thing by pushing all thoughts of the Games out of my mind and avoiding memories attached to Kai? My resolve falters for a second.

I swallow a breath and begin. "I understand that. You could have explained that and I would have given you space. I still can. But you still owe me answers, Alec, even if I don't get them this second. I have my own family to protect, so you can't keep secrets from me about how all this victor stuff works. Any mistake I make puts them in danger. I need to know what to avoid doing." I pause for another breath and Alec cuts in.

"I know, I know…" he begins, but I cut him off because I still have words to get off my chest.

"You're not the only one with scars. I think what really hurt was knowing that you don't trust me, even though we're victors and you said we're in this together. Do you realize how hard it is for me to connect with other people now? Who else am I supposed to turn to for victor advice? I've been worried sick about you for the last four days! I care about you a lot, Alec, okay?" After the words are out of me, I feel almost deflated. Now I'm back to the real me, a smallish vulnerable girl who's worried about what Alec might reply.

He looks a little surprised now. "I never said I didn't care about you," he says. "I've been worried that you hate me now. I know I owe you answers. Just give me a little time. I'll tell you everything you need to know this Saturday. After that, maybe we could just hang out for fun, you know, like normal people. How does that sound?"

All the anger is gone, and I can feel warmth creeping up into my cheeks. "I…I would like that a lot," I answer.

Alec smiles and says, "Then it's a date." I watch him as he makes his way back to his own house.


	17. Answers

**A/N: I just got back from vacation yesterday so I'm really sorry about the wait. I made this chapter a lot longer than usual so hopefully that will make up for it. I'm going to try my best to get the next few chapters out quickly. As always, thanks for reading!**

Parcel Days are one of the best things that come from winning the Hunger Games. It's still early in the morning, but practically the entire district is out and about, waiting for the arrival of the Capitol train. It might not seem like it would be such a big deal since not many people go hungry in Four. The sea provides everything we need. The catch is that there are set quotas for the amount of seafood that must be transported to the Capitol every week. Families are allowed to keep anything that exceeds the quota, so, sure, we have enough, but we never really have a lot.

When a tribute from Four wins the Games, food is delivered to the district every month for the next year. Everyone is off of work for the holiday. Town Square transforms into a place of festivities and people are just happy to be alive. I've learned from experience that nothing brings people together like food. Luxuries such as candy only add to the excitement.

A cheer erupts through the crowd as the train pulls into the station. People grab for cans of food and bottles of wine, and it makes me glad to see the smiles on their faces. For the first time, I can actually understand why people would want to go into the Games and win for their district. Bringing pride to your home is an incredible feeling.

My father echoes my thoughts. He slides a hand over my shoulder. "All of these people are celebrating because of you, Mags. I wish I could tell you how proud I am to have you as my daughter."

"Aw, thanks Dad, but I really didn't do much," I reply softly.

"It looks like you did a whole lot. More importantly, you stayed yourself, and that's what really counts. I know you don't like talking about what happened, but I just want you to know that I'm here if you need to get something off your chest."

I'm not sure why his words make me want to tear up. I look into his familiar face, the face of a man who has overworked himself for years just to protect his daughter. The only thing that has changed over the years is the amount of gray in his hair and goatee. I've changed much more, and now it's my turn to protect him. I don't know if I believe his comment that I managed to stay myself. On some days, I can pick out pieces of myself that haven't disappeared and convince myself that I'm still the same girl with the same interests after all. There are other days where I feel like I've been broken to the point where everything I do is an effort to rebuild myself into something new.

"I know you're there for me if I need something," I say, a little delayed.

My father's face pulls into a smile. "Of course I am. Well I need to go find your mother, so why don't you go take the girls around the Square?" He motions to Marilla and Hallie behind him.

I nod in agreement and join my little cousins. We've only walked for maybe five minutes when Hallie catches sight of a dance contest some people had set up and tells me she wants to go there. I laugh as I watch her swing hips that she doesn't have yet as she tries to imitate the people dancing around a pile of food packages.

"Marilla, why don't you go dance with your sister?" I ask.

"Because I have some dignity," she answers seriously.

"If you say so," I say with a shrug and lean against a wall to get a better view when something catches my eye. I turn to see two little kids struggling to grab a bag of candy off a platform. They look like brother and sister, and I would guess the girl is about five or six and the boy is around two. Both of them have reddish curls and big blue eyes.

"Here you go," I say as I grab the candy and kneel to their level to hand it to them.

"Fank you!" the toddler boy exclaims.

The little girl is jumping up and down in excitement. "Ooh, I saw you on the T.V.!" she informs me. That's strange. Usually kids aren't required to watch the Games until they are old enough to handle it. I think I was at least eight or nine when I started watching, and it was still more than I was ready for. Hopefully she didn't see too much of the Games this year. I'm about to ask her what she saw me do when she answers for me.

"You were fishing in a lake! I wanted to watch more but Mommy said I wasn't allowed. But then I saw you again next to the red man and Mommy said you were going to bring us lots of food and now it's here!" She stops her rapid speaking to catch her breath. I figure the "red man" was Nathaniel Flickerman during the post-Games interview.

Her little brother's eyes widen and his mouth falls open in shock. "You made all dis food?" he asks incredulously. It's definitely the cutest thing I have seen in a while.

"Not exactly," I say with a smile. "Here, take some more." The little girl opens her backpack and I help them load food and desserts into it.

Marilla taps me on the back. "I think that's their mom looking for them," she tells me. Sure enough, there is a woman with the same hair color as the kids frantically calling for them. I stand up and wave her over, and I see every muscle in her face relax in relief.

"You two had me worried sick," she says as lifts up the little boy and grips the girl's hand.

The little ones seem oblivious to her worry. "Look Mama, I gots food from big choo-choo!" the boy tells her and presents her with a can of soup.

She can't help but smile at that. "Tell Miss Mags thank you for keeping you company," she tells them. They respond by thanking me and wave to me as they start walking off. Another little boy with ashy brown hair runs up to the girl before they get very far and pulls her off in another direction. He has a childish round face and eyes that are the same aqua green tone as the sea. They are gone in a second and the mother is chasing after her daughter again, but I can't help but think something looked familiar about the brown-haired boy. I must have seen him around the market before the reaping.

"Weren't they the most adorable things ever?" I ask Marilla. I've always had a soft spot for kids.

"I guess they were kind of cute," she allows. "But I'm never having kids."

"I thought the same way as you when I was twelve. Now I really want to have a family of my own in the future," I reply. "I think I'll have two, maybe three."

Marilla smiles smugly. "I bet you'll regret that."

"Where's Hallie?" I ask, suddenly remembering. After a moment of panic, I turn around and see she is still at the dance competition, though she isn't dancing. Most of the attention over there is focused on Kallan, who is doing some ridiculous dance that involves flailing limbs.

"Come on," I tell Marilla and practically drag her over. Hallie runs up to me as I approach Kallan.

"Did you come to join me?" he asks and pulls me to the center of the crowd. "Today is all about you, so come on, get in the spotlight!"

"No thanks", I say as I slide out of his grasp. "I was actually wondering if you had seen Alec. I'm supposed to meet him today at his house, but I figured he would be here."

"He was. You just missed him. I think he was going home," Kallan answers in the middle of his dance.

"Oh, I guess I should go meet him now then," I say unsurely.

"You two have fun, but not too much fun!" Kallan says with a laugh. Even though Kallan is about seven years older than me, sometimes I swear I am more mature than him. I just shake my head in reply.

"Wait!" Marilla says, grabbing my arm. "You can't just leave now!"

"Yeah, what are you going do anyway? Can I come?" Hallie asks.

"No, I'm sorry, but I have to go. You wouldn't want to come anyway. It's just victor's stuff." At least that is half the truth. Alec promised to tell me what happened to his family and that is something that I don't want the girls to ever have to know. We're just going to hang out after, but I would really prefer to be alone then.

Hallie looks disappointed, yet she accepts what I've said. Marilla isn't convinced. "Just pretend you don't have to go," she pushes.

"I said I have to. And what if I want to go?" I ask.

"Well just pretend you don't want to."

I know she got the whole "just pretend" thing from Kai. He made it up about a year ago and used it as a response to pretty much anything he didn't want to hear. It hurts to think about that right now.

"Pretending doesn't change anything," I say. If there's anything I've learned in the past few weeks, it's that. I try to come up with something to occupy my cousins. "You two don't have to go home if I leave. Why don't you go hang out with some friends from school?"

Marilla launches into a discussion of why she doesn't want to do that. I try to listen, I really do, but she keeps using all these names that I'm unfamiliar with and my mind drifts pretty quickly.

"Look, I'm sorry," I say when she's done. "I need to go. People are probably going to start heading home soon anyway." I apologize again before leaving. When I turn around, I see my cousins' golden-toned hair blowing in the wind as Marilla shoots me an accusing glare. I feel bad, but I'm sure they will get over it.

I catch sight of Alec just as he is about to walk into his house. I'm out of breath by the time I reach him.

"Are you sure you're ready to talk about this today?" I ask between breaths. At first, I was just eager to get answers, but the more I thought about it, the more willing I became to give him time. That's what I would want if I were in his position.

"About as ready as I will ever be," he says as he pulls the door open. "I didn't see you at Town Square."

"I was there with my cousins. It was really crowded. I forgot how big a deal Parcel Days are here."

He nods in agreement. "I can't even imagine how big they must be in the poor districts. Most of their tributes look like they've never had a full meal in their life."

"Yeah," I reply sadly. The poor districts go into the Hunger Games with a disadvantage because their children are malnourished. Winning would mean food for the district, but that's difficult when the tributes are already skinny and weak. In the end, it just turns into a vicious cycle. Even after all the bad luck we've had, Alec and I are still pretty lucky to have been born in Four instead of Eleven or Twelve.

When we're inside, I volunteer to go make some tea. After it has come to a boil, I pour the water into the cups and plop several sugar cubes into mine. I realize how unhealthy it is when I can't taste the flavor of the tea over the sugary sweetness, but I really don't care. I make sure to put a more reasonable amount of sugar in Alec's cup. I've just made it to the table when Alec calls me over to the sofa.

"Make yourself comfortable," he says. I pull me feet up onto the couch and curl up near the arm, my cup of tea steady in my hands.

An awkward moment of silence passes because both of us know that we have to get through this conversation before we can put all of this behind us, at least temporarily. "Sooo…" I begin.

"I can start from the beginning, if that's okay with you," he replies. I nod in approval. His green eyes focus on a far corner of the room and I can tell that his mind is someplace far away, reliving the past. "When I was young, it was just me and my parents. We lived in a small house about forty minutes north of here, so my mother and I spent a lot of time at home alone while my dad was out at sea." He pauses for a few seconds and turns towards me. "Do you remember that hurricane that hit really late in September about thirteen years ago?" he inquires.

I have to think about that for a minute because a lot of storms have hit in my lifetime. Then I am able to remember just a small snippet of that hurricane. I was four and Kai was two. We were both huddled under a table and my aunt was saying that hurricanes usually struck earlier in the summer. After it passed, we ran through the flooded streets without a care in the world. Peacekeepers were there, I think. That makes sense because it would have been during the Dark Days.

"Yeah. The memory's not too clear, though. I was really young," I tell him.

"Well, my father was out on a boat during that hurricane and he never came back. I thought for a long time that he would show up at the front door and everything would go back to normal. It wasn't until I was older that I accepted he was dead. But then I started thinking some other things. With all the technology the Capitol has, there has to be a way to know when a storm is coming. I didn't understand why they couldn't at least warn us, what with everything we do to make sure they have their seafood…"

"Wait," I interrupt. "How would the Capitol know if a hurricane was coming? I don't think that's possible, Alec," I say skeptically. Sure, you could tell a hurricane or tropical storm is on it's way when the waves start getting choppy and the sky gains a yellow tint, but by then, it's only a matter of time. Sailors and fisherman have a few hours tops to get out of the water and head home. Predicting storms would be incredibly helpful, but it just isn't logical. At least to my knowledge.

Alec just shakes his head. "Believe it or not, it is. I always suspected it was, but I didn't know for sure until I asked around in the Capitol. It turns out that it's an ancient technology. People have been tracking storms for centuries, before Panem even existed."

My mouth falls open in surprise. "And they don't tell us?!" I ask incredulously. Do they have any idea how many people have died from being caught in a storm? It's not fair. It just isn't fair.

"Exactly," Alec says, gritting his teeth in anger. I'm feeling pretty angry myself, and I'm not the one who lost a father in a situation that should have been prevented.

"He was in the rebellion," Alec continues. "I feel like that's part of the reason, too. The Peacekeepers were regulating all fishing at the time. They probably purposely sent them in the storm's path."

"Sounds like something they would do," I add.

Alec decides to continue the story. "So anyway, time passed. I started saying things about the Capitol and my mom always had to shut me up before someone heard. It was hard for her to lose her husband, but she moved on and got remarried. Then she had my brother, Thomas. We called him Tommy. I never cared for my stepfather because I didn't consider him my dad and he didn't consider me his son, but he loved my mother and Tommy, so that was enough for me. I was sixteen and my brother was three when I was reaped. I don't think I need to explain to you what it was like to be in the Games. You saw that on T.V. and experienced it yourself…" he trails off.

I cringe a little when I remember watching Alec thrust spears into the hearts of those caught in his nets, but I don't hold him accountable for that anymore. I've been in the same situation as him. In the arena, it's so easy to lose sight of who you are. Fear and hope and desperation transform you into a puppet in the Capitol's Games. Attack first and regret later. We've all done things we aren't proud of. I know Alec now, and I know that he isn't a heartless killer. I can only hope that isn't how he still sees himself.

"And after the Games…?" I ask timidly because I know something bad is coming.

"I was mad. Mad at myself for killing but more mad at the Capitol for making me. I said some things I shouldn't have during the victor's interview. It was the heat of the moment kind of thing. I wasn't thinking about the consequences when I told Nathaniel that I could never forgive the Capitol and that the Games were cruel. I started to bring up the hurricane thing, too. The camera people were able to edit most of it out, but the broadcast went off air for a while. They told me I had to meet with President Burns before I could leave."

He isn't even trying to hide the sadness on his face. I rest my hand on his arm in a sympathetic gesture. "Alec, you don't have to finish this," I tell him.

"No, I do," he says. His voice sounds weak and broken when he continues. "Burns was the one who told me about my mother's 'accident'. He made it more than clear that it was my fault and my brother was next on the list. So then, I did what everyone backed into a corner has to do: I made a deal. He told me the Games weren't getting enough support in the districts, so he needed someone to help promote them. I agreed to do whatever he asked in return for Tommy's safety.

"Most of it is just acting really enthusiastic for the Hunger Games and taking part in Capitol promos, but it can extend to almost anything. Anyone could see that some victors are more involved than others. The ones who are most involved are really the ones who have screwed up the most. We're on a tight chain. The past few years, Burns has been sending out letters like the one you got to warn new victors to behave, but he's really just waiting for you to make a mistake so he can take advantage of it."

It's a lot of information to take in. One thought breaks through all the others because it's a tiny glimmer of hope in a dark place. "Your little brother is still alive? Where is he?" I ask. I had just assumed he was dead.

"He lives with his dad," Alec answers glumly. "My stepfather knew I was the reason his wife died, so he pretty much hates me. We both agreed it would be better for Tommy to not be a part of my life. The Capitol still controls him, but he doesn't have to grow up in fear knowing that. I send them money sometimes, and that's the only connection we have. It's better this way."

I understand now why Alec didn't want to talk about this. My family has always been whole. I never experienced true pain and loss until this year. Alec, on the other hand, has to carry all this guilt around with him. His only surviving relative is growing up without knowing him. Would I do the same thing to protect my family, even if it means I have to face all of this mess alone? I guess I would, but I'm not sure if I would be brave enough.

What hurts the most is seeing the pain on Alec's face. Instinctively, I pull so close to him that I am nearly on his lap and grip his shoulders. Our faces are level now. He needs to hear what I have to say. "Alec, please believe me when I say that this isn't your fault. None of it is your fault. You never asked for any of this! It's the Capitol who did this, and feeling defeated just means that they're winning. You've done all you can, and no one could expect any more of you. No one would judge you for what happened." I try to stress every syllable so he will know how much I mean what I'm saying. After the words are out, the close proximity registers in my mind and I can feel butterflies in my stomach. I know what I want to do, but I'm not sure how he feels, so I pull away and blush.

"None of this is fair," I say softly.

He sighs heavily. "It would be nice if life was fair."

The gears in my mind are spinning. "I know equality can't exist. Still, there is no reason that it should be how it is. It could at least be a little fair if the Capitol wasn't so corrupt. I'm sure, if all the districts stood together, we could change how life works."

"Mags, thousands of people tried that twelve years ago, and just look where it got us. Nothing can change."

I don't have anything to say to that. All the last rebellion achieved was obliterating all life in Thirteen and establishing the Hunger Games. Alec and I would be much better off if it had never happened.

I'm still deep in thought when Alec speaks next. "I see her all the time. My mother, I mean. It's little things, like the color of the ocean. Her eyes were the same green. So are my brother's. Mine are darker green like my father's were."

Something clicks in my mind and I jump up and dash into the kitchen. "Mags?" Alec asks in confusion, but I have already found the answer I was looking for. I peer into the little boy's face in the family portrait. Sea green eyes and ash brown hair.

"I saw your brother this morning," I announce. I knew that kid looked familiar, but I never would have dreamed he was the toddler in the picture. Mostly because I thought he was dead…

Alec doesn't seem as surprised as I would have thought. "I've seen him around a few times."

I want to hear more about little Tommy, but Alec has other plans. "I think we've had enough emotional talk for one day. Do you want to go for a swim?" he asks.

"That sounds good," I reply. I've taken a lot of long walks down the beach since I returned home, but I haven't gone swimming. Technically, the last time I swam was in the lake in the arena.

As we walk barefoot down to the beach, I can't help but wonder what exactly this is. When Alec left my house a few days ago, he said "it's a date." I know that's just an expression, but that didn't keep me from constantly thinking about what he meant. All I know is I'm not going to ask for clarification and risk messing this up.

The closer we get to the ocean, the bigger the waves look. It's definitely choppy, but not as bad as it gets just before a big storm. I can tell already by the way the waves are going in separate directions that there is an undertow.

"Are you sure you can swim in this?" Alec questions.

"What do you mean?" I counter. The way he phrased the question was a little strange.

"I don't know," he says. "It's just that you're not that big. It looks like the waves would push you around."

I smile at him. "I survived the Hunger Games. I think I can handle a few waves."

He laughs in response. "Alright. Let's go then."

I wade into the water in my T-shirt and shorts, being careful to not let the crashing tide push me down. Eventually, I get deep enough to where the water reaches my hair and makes it about ten shades darker brown. I turn back to Alec triumphantly to make some comment about my success thus far when I am once again distracted by watching him take off his shirt. My lapse in attention immediately results in me getting knocked backwards by a wave. Dang it.

"Sure you're okay?" Alec asks too innocently.

"Don't act so smug," I joke. "I clearly meant to do that just to throw you off."

For the next hour, we swim in the ocean, although swim might not be the right description. It's more like getting repeatedly pushed and pulled by the white-capped waves. It doesn't matter how many times I get knocked down, though, because it's actually really fun. The hardest part is making it back to the shore because the waves are the most powerful where they break over shallow water. We've just about made it back when a wave catches Alec by surprise and knocks him hard onto the sand. I can't help but laugh as the waves withdraw around him.

"I thought you were supposed to be the strong one," I say as I pick a piece of seaweed off his shoulders. Seconds later, the next wave crashes in and I end up lying across Alec's back. I push my ponytail out of my face and attempt to spit all traces of salt water out of my mouth. The sound of Alec's laughter greets me.

"You were asking for that one," he laughs.

It takes a few tries to pull ourselves out of the waves' reach because a new one slams into us every few seconds and leaves us tangled together.

I sigh dramatically when I am finally in the safe zone. Alec pulls himself right beside me. Several yards away, a family walks by and stares at us. It makes me feel vulnerable for some reason, kind of like how I feel when Lilith inspects me.

"I wonder what they think," I whisper to Alec. I know I look like a disaster right now, but I'm sure that's not the reason they're staring.

"Does it matter?" he asks. "You seem like you care a lot about what people think of you." He doesn't say it harshly or condescendingly. It is just an observation.

"No I don't," I say automatically, but it takes no time at all for me to realize he's right. I was even scared to come home because I was concerned my own aunt and uncle would be upset that I won. "Okay, fine, I do. I don't know why. Don't you ever feel that way?"

"I guess I used to. It doesn't seem too important anymore. I have enough to deal with and people are better off making their own assumptions anyway."

He's right. What other people think isn't going to change my life or what I've been through. I put way too much thought into worrying over nothing, and that usually ends up holding me back. I might not be able to change the way I think too much, but I can start being myself without worrying how people view my actions. My attention automatically drifts to the one person who I have spent countless nights thinking about and wondering what he thinks about me. Now is as good a time as ever to let go of my worries.

I lean forward and press a kiss to Alec's lips. It's short and sweet, and for a second, I forget all of my insecurity. I pull back slowly and search his expression for a reaction. It seems like time passes incredibly slowly in this moment, giving me time to take everything in. The taste of the ocean lingers on my lips. Alec's dark hair is still dripping water and there are specks of sand on his left cheek. He seems a tiny bit surprised at first, but then the edges of his mouth form into a grin.

There's so much going on inside of me right now. I've suddenly forgotten how to speak and I don't know what to say, anyway, so I just smile back because I'm relieved and happy that he's happy. Somehow, my mouth finds words and I'm talking while only being half aware of it. "I've been wanting to do that for a while," I say.

"I'm glad you did," he replies, and that only makes me more happy.

It's starting to get dark, so we walk back home a few minutes later. I know I'm going to have to endure questions about my whereabouts when I get back, but it really doesn't matter. I'm floating in the clouds right now, and I want to savor every second of that before I'm pulled back down. I still haven't figured out if I'm the same person or someone new. Maybe I'm both. There's always room for people to grow, and I think I like the direction I'm headed.


	18. Tour

**A/N: Here's most of the Victory Tour. I'm really eager to start writing Mags' first year as mentor. I know I have a good bit of new people on alerts, which is awesome, but it would really make my day to hear from all of you through reviews! I consider the chapter a success if I get just one review :)**

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It turns out I was right about enduring questions. The second I walk into the door and feel the chill of the air conditioning, my entire family starts with the inquiries. Where were you? A television crew was supposed to film you earlier today. Why are your clothes wet? You went swimming in this weather? What are you smiling about?

"Yeah, I went swimming," is my simple answer to all the questions.

Marilla shoots me a look from across the kitchen. "Sounds like important victor business to me," she says sarcastically. Apparently she's still mad about me leaving earlier.

"Victor business?" my mother asks in confusion.

The smile finally fades from my face. I look into Marilla's blue eyes and try to make her understand in a way that won't give too much away. "I promise I wasn't lying to you. We really did have victor's stuff to discuss."

"Okay. Whatever," she replies, hardly mollified.

I feel guilty now. It really didn't seem like such a big deal to leave her earlier, but there must be something going on for her to react like this.

"Hey, can you come help me with something upstairs?" I ask her. She grudgingly agrees after my aunt tells her to listen to me. When we are finally in my room, I lock the door behind me and face her. "I know something's wrong. You can tell me."

She crosses her arms over her chest defiantly. "So now you act like you care," she says coldly.

"When did I ever not care? I'm freezing in these wet clothes and there's nothing I want to do more right now than take a hot shower, but I'm staying here because I want to help you through whatever's bothering you." My tone comes off as more annoyed than I intended.

Marilla focuses her gaze on the wood floor and her next words are spoken softly. "You walk around like everything is okay. I don't get it. You told me pretending gets you nowhere, but that's all you've done since you've been home."

That wasn't what I was expecting. I'm still not used to seeing my tough little cousin look vulnerable. "Marilla…I don't think that everything's okay. I know I act like it sometimes, but that's just because it's less painful that way. I try to be brave for you and Hallie, and I've been thinking this whole time that you don't want to be reminded of what happened. You told me you didn't like the sympathy."

"From other people," she says as she sits down on the floor. Her eyes are still avoiding mine. "You're family. You loved Kai, too. Aren't you supposed to care a little more?"

I join her on the floor and rest my chin on my knees. "Believe me, I do care. I see him every day and night. I'm sorry. I didn't realize you felt this way. We can talk now if you want to."

"I don't know what I want," she says, sounding defeated. "All I know is that this sucks. Even my parents act like they're okay, but they aren't fooling anyone. I hear my mom cry every night. I just want to be strong. It's a lot harder now than it used to be."

"I know, I know," I coo as I rest a hand on her shoulder. "You are strong; always have been. A lot stronger than me, actually. Never forget that." We listen to the sound of crickets outside my window for a few moments before I think of something else to say. "Since I won, I've been wishing that there were instructions to tell me exactly how I should feel. Whether I should put the Games behind me or remember and accept them. There's so many feelings I don't know how to deal with. All I can do is keep moving and redefine who I am. Find a way to live again. That's what you should do, too."

She ponders that for a moment. "I'll try. I promise not to get in any more fights at school."

"What?! You got in a fight?!" I ask, my voice high-pitched with alarm.

Marilla finally meets my eyes. "I knew you weren't listening this morning!" At least she doesn't sound mad about it.

"Oh." I sigh heavily. "Sorry. That was really rude of me. I guess I was just a little distracted."

A small smile comes to her face. "Distracted because you wanted to go swimming with Alec Calder?"

"Something like that," I answer. I think back to us on the beach, and that threatens to take over my mind completely. The wide smile returns to my face.

I'm brought back by my cousin's laugh. "I can tell just from your face right now. Let me guess, kissing at sunset on the beach? I know you're into sappy stuff like that."

My face flushes red immediately. That only makes Marilla laugh harder. "I knew it!" she says between laughs. I'm a little embarrassed, but it doesn't outweigh my relief at seeing her laughing when she looked so depressed minutes ago.

I grab the nearest pillow and toss it at her playfully to silence her. "Alright, that's enough. Nice chat, kid. I need to go take a shower and change now."

"Kid? I think you're forgetting I'm almost thirteen. Besides, I was practically babysitting my older brother by the time I was ten."

I smile at that. "I hope you realize you're still going to be my baby cousin no matter how old you get."

Marilla rolls her eyes. "Like I said, you're into sappy stuff," she comments as she exits my room.

The next few months roll by quickly as all of us discover what it means to learn to live again. It's not easy, but things get better with each passing week and it gets easier to focus on the now. My live divides itself into different facets. Mornings are spent with my parents and sometimes out on my dad's boat. I usually go over to Alec's during the day and hang out with friends from school in the evening. The days conclude with a family dinner. It isn't until night that my subconscious takes free reign and subjects me to all the memories I would rather forget. More often than not, I wake up screaming, images of Blade's detached arm and Kai and Osten's lifeless bodies fresh in my mind.

Alec and I start off by taking things slowly and we get closer and closer as time goes on. Close enough to where when I wake up on what would have been Kai's sixteenth birthday and have a full blown panic attack at three in the morning, I feel comfortable going to his house so I can cry into his shoulder and know I have his support. I remember Alec and Kallan saying that victors are stuck with each other. They are, but the real truth is that victor's _need _each other. We have scars that go far deeper than the average person's. We've seen too much. There are some things that I could never discuss with my family simply because they wouldn't understand. The foundation of the relationship between Alec and I is the mutual understanding. We can comfort each other when things get rough, and it doesn't stop us from having carefree fun other days. I've always felt bad for the districts that have no victors to mentor tributes in the Games. Now I think that it's much worse to have only one victor. That person would surely be very lonely.

If I were never reaped, I would be living a normal life in my last year of school. It's hard to think how different everything would be. Alec and I would never have met. It's not impossible for a victor to connect with someone who has never been in the arena, but it is infinitely more difficult. There was a time when I thought I would lose all of my friends from the past because I am a changed person. It turns out that was a pointless worry, too. I can still reconnect with the old me when I hang out with Coral and Kate. I listen to hours of what's going on at school despite the fact that I don't go anymore. We still go down to the pier and have sleep at each other's houses, even though it's safe to say my house is the favorite destination now. However, things will never be exactly the same as they used to be. I've learned to accept that.

One thing victors are required to do is find a talent to practice in their spare time. Alec's is art. I spend hours watching him draw in his sketchbook and have tried to replicate his careful strokes without any success. My mother is the one who suggests I try knitting. At first, I'm resistant because I have always thought of it as a hobby for little old ladies. I'm genuinely surprised when I find that I love it. It has the same therapeutic effect as knot tying does. Rhythmic, soothing, and, ultimately, distracting. Within a few months, I create tons of pastel-colored blankets, tote bags, swim suit cover-ups, and socks. My mother takes to it as well. She enjoys spending time with me as we help each other morph thread and yarn into something useful.

Overall, life is good. Tiny bits of happiness are what keep me thriving, whether it be vibrant flowers in bloom or the gleam in little children's' eyes as they grab food on parcel days. My cousins' laughter or the little lines that form on the edges of Alec's mouth when he smiles. There's a reason I fought to survive in the arena, and this is it.

Things fall into a state of relative normalcy after a while, so I am taken by surprise when Isidora Satin appears at my front door early one winter morning. I had all but forgotten about the upcoming Victory Tour. It had seemed too far into the future to give any thought over. Now that it's here, I'm perplexed as to where the last six months went.

"Ah! Mags! Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how excited are you for this trip?" Isidora chimes. She pauses for about half a second and then continues before I have time to respond. "Don't tell me! I bet it's a ten. It's a ten for me, too! Oh, do you remember those shoes I bought you to match mine? It started a trend in the Capitol! Me, a trend setter!"

"That's great, Isidora," I say, still shocked to find her at my front door. She looks pretty similar to how I remember her. Gaudy clothes with bright patterns, purple lipstick, and massive pink curls. The only differences are a few streaks of lime green in her hair and a yellow tattoo that spirals around her left cheek. I can't help but wonder why so many people in the Capitol get permanent tattoos when the popular fashions are constantly changing.

She looks so excited that I would feel bad telling her I completely forgot about the Victory Tour. I settle for asking what time we will be leaving.

"We start interviewing you on your talent at noon. The train leaves at precisely one o'clock," she answers automatically. "Now go to your bathroom and get undressed. The prep team will meet you in a moment." She gives me a little shove and I'm off.

It's been a while since I've been through prep work, so it will take some adjustment to be comfortable with being naked in front of the team again. I pull off my pajamas and undergarments before covering myself with a fluffy white towel.

I smile when the trio walks in. They were all very kind to me in the Capitol. The twins look the same. They are dressed identically, but, as usual, all of Faria's clothes are soft lavender while Zia's are a butterscotch yellow. Soma looks a bit different because he has changed his hairstyle to spiky.

"Nice to see you again, dear. How have you been?" Faria asks in her motherly tone.

"Not bad. I've managed," I answer truthfully.

"I'm glad to hear that," she responds as she begins inspecting my nails.

The prep work takes about an hour. Even though some aspects of it are unpleasant, I don't mind because the team makes me feel very comfortable. They squeeze my hands in support as we wait for Lilith to walk in. As far as I know, there will be no complicated costumes for this tour. Probably just a bunch of nice clothes and evening gowns.

Lilith is characteristically angry when she walks in. I only hear bits and pieces of what she is angry about through comments like: "And then I told her that she's the worst employee I've ever had! I mean, really, how could she forget to ship the pearl buttons?! She disgusts me!"

"Is it the same lady who forgot the octopus arms?" I ask after five minutes of her angry speech. It sounded eerily similar to the rant she was in the middle of the time I first met her. That time, she was angry because someone forgot to ship part of the costume I was supposed to wear to the opening ceremonies. To this day, I'm still thankful I was saved from being dressed as an octopus.

"No," she says, staring at me intently as if impressed I remembered. "That was Gretchen. This time it was her neice, Sylvia, who inconvenienced me with her carelessness. To think I tried to help out that family!" she finishes, exasperated. She sighs then. "That's not something you need to worry about. Let's get you dressed."

Since we aren't due to arrive in District Twelve until tomorrow, my outfit today doesn't have to be quite as formal. Lilith presents me with a pair of black pants that are so tight fitting that they squeeze my legs. It is beyond me why anyone would want to wear something so uncomfortable. Apparently, comfort has no place in fashion. A pair of black boots that lace up to my knees fits right over the pants. I am given a short-sleeved ruffled white shirt and a thin-yet-fleecy grey sweater to put over it. It's all thrown together by an expensive looking scarf that wraps around my neck.

Honestly, it isn't cold enough outside to be dressed like this. District Four winters are mild and slightly bipolar. The temperature will dip low enough to walk outside with a jacket and sweatpants, only to rise to the point where you wear shorts and sweat the next day. At least today is more of a sweatpants day.

When I come downstairs, I notice that all the things I have knitted have been arranged nicely in the living room. The interview is short and painless. I simply show off my favorites and talk about how it's a nice hobby to pass the time. I add that it helps me to keep my hands busy when I'm anxious.

Before long, it's time to go. I hug my mother goodbye and tell her to pass the message onto my father and the rest of the family. I wish I would have known I was leaving today so I could tell them bye. My father is out on the boat with his brother and the girls are at school.

Isidora escorts me to the train station and I am glad to see Alec is already there. Since he was my mentor, he gets to come with me to each district. I make my way over to him and stand on my tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. Isidora eyes us peculiarly.

"I can't believe you still think I'm going to fall for that," she says disapprovingly. I giggle when I realize what she's talking about.

Alec laughs, too. "Actually, it isn't a prank anymore," he tells her.

Isidora just frowns and shakes her head. "I know you two think I'm dense. I'll show you. I'm not falling for it this time!"

"Suit yourself," Alec says with a shrug.

"Is Kallan coming with us?" I ask Alec.

"We're going to meet him in the Capitol. All the victors will be there."

I hadn't really thought about meeting the other victors. Well, we've all been through the same thing, so maybe I can make a few friends and pick up some tips for mentoring. Then again, I won when the tributes they were responsible for died…I'm not sure I want to meet Osten and Kim's mentors.

Alec must see my expression because his next words are exactly what I need to hear. "Don't over think it, Mags. It'll be fine."

"You're right," I say confidently.

The rest of the night is spent listening to Isidora and Lilith go on and on about who wore what and who cheated on who in the Capitol. It's a little funny because it's clear the two can't stand each other. Isidora's too happy and chirpy, while Lilith is hostile and pessimistic. It only takes thirty minutes for Lilith to make a rude comment that offends Isidora and start a heated argument. Psshh, they call the Hunger Games entertainment. They should just make a show about angry Capitol women fighting. _That's _entertaining.

Almost all of the tension dissipates the second dinner is served. There's really nothing that can compare to the delicacies of the Capitol. I eat until I'm full, and then a little more. My stomach feels so heavy that all I want to do is curl up on the sofa next to Alec and watch him sketch. I lean against the fabric of his maroon shirt and do just that for the next hour. After a while, we start playing a game where one of us draws something and the other has to guess what it is. Of course, my drawings are pathetic in comparison, but it's still possible to guess what they are. Usually.

Alec subtly taps me on the shoulder and directs my attention to Isidora, who is still watching us curiously. I look back at Alec and we share a communicative glance. Our situation is different now than it was the last time around, but why not take the chance to mess with Isidora for old time's sake? We can lay it on extra thick just to confuse her and watch her reaction. I have to suppress my laughter as I pull myself even closer to Alec to where I am practically on top of him and throw my arms around him. I rest my head on his shoulder and smile as I press kiss after kiss up his neck.

Alec kisses my cheek and takes the opportunity to whisper in my ear. "Just look at her," he says. I allow myself a quick peek and have to turn back immediately so I won't ruin it with laughter. She has the same gaping mouth and bewildered eyes as last time.

"Ugh, just get a room," Lilith sneers before getting up and walking down the hallway.

We keep it up for maybe twenty minutes before I start getting tired and announce that I'm going to bed. The room looks a lot like the one on the train last summer. I have to wonder if it is the same train since I'm sure most look identical. Could this be the room I cried in right after saying goodbye to my family? I try to banish those thoughts from my brain as I change into a nightgown and settle down between the heavy white sheets.

With all the reminders of my experience in the Capitol that today has brought, it is no surprise that my sleep is filled with nightmares. I find myself in the final seven in the arena, only my fellow tributes are Alec, Isidora, Lilith, and the prep team. We are all gathered in the grass clearing surrounding the cornucopia. It is clear that this is the final fight. What I can't understand is how anyone could expect me to kill these people. I sit down and feel the high grass brush against me. The sky is already turning dark and foreboding just as it does before the downpour as I make a speech on how we have to all stick together.

Soon, I find out that there are more tributes left than I thought. Kim and the girl from Seven jump out from the trees and start slicing into and chopping away at the others. I am glued to my spot in the grass, and all I can do is scream and beg them to stop, to kill me instead. I have already watched Kai, Blade, and Crystal die when I tried to protect them. I can't take any more of this. But they don't stop. When the others are dead, Kim kills Seven and finally makes her way to me. Then she jumps on top of me and grips my neck to strangle me.

I wake up screaming and shaking. I tell myself to calm down because none of it was real, but then I become aware of something laying on top my neck and face. Kim! Survival instincts take over, and I claw away at the weight on top of me while screaming and thrashing. It takes a full minute for me to realize that it was just a pillow. One of the expensive kinds that are filled with foam instead of feathers. Now it is laying ripped apart across the bed, little pieces of foam lying here and there. This is embarrassing. I try to quickly scoop up all of the foam and hide it in the pillow so an avox can pick it up later.

Thankfully, the rest of the morning is an improvement. I am kept busy by prep work and breakfast. We arrive in Twelve right on time. As soon as I step out the train, I become aware of why Lilith dressed me in so many layers. The cold air pierces me through my thick coat, and there is even a thin layer of snow on the ground. The next thing I notice is my surroundings, and it's not pretty.

My school teachers have not exaggerated the poverty in Twelve. The whole place seems drained of color and hope. Coal dust mixes in with the little bit of snow to make it sickly grey. The houses are tiny and have holes in the foundation. There is a crowd of people here to watch my arrival, but none of them look happy to be here. Come to think of it, I can't come up with one reason why they should be. It only takes one look for me to tell that this district really could have used the perks of winning. Everyone has hollow cheeks and grim expressions. Their thick clothes can't hide how skinny and malnourished they are.

It would be inappropriate to pretend to be happy here. I know it's completely out of my control, but I feel like I need to do something to help these people because this isn't right.

I am escorted to Twelve's town square, where I am given a plaque and a half-hearted speech from the mayor congratulating me on my win. Then I am handed a pre-prepared speech to read. I set it on the podium and try to alternate between reading the words and looking out into the crowd. In a way, it's a good thing that someone made the speech for me because I would start nervously talking in circles if I had to make it up on my own. What I don't like is how fake and selfish it sounds. I'm almost to the bottom of the page when I look up and catch sight of the fallen tributes' families. They look even more broken than the rest of the crowd. I think back to the little girl from Twelve. She was tiny, scared, and sensitive, and everyone knew she didn't stand a chance. I don't think the boy survived the bloodbath, either.

My pause has grown too long, so I look back at the paper and desperately try to find where it was I left off. I know I was somewhere near the bottom. The passing seconds start making me nervous. With a deep breath, I push away the paper and decide to finish this on my own.

"I'm really sorry for everything that's happened," I say sympathetically. "There's only one thing I have to ask of you, and that's to not give up hope. Life can be painful, but there are always bits of happiness to even it out. Please, just don't give up. Best of luck to you, District Twelve."

Thousands of eyes are staring up at me, interested for the first time. They look like they expect to hear more, but I can't think of anything to say that wouldn't be repetitive. "That's all," I add quietly and awkwardly before stepping away from the podium. Some people clap for me. It isn't an overwhelming response. Still, it's nice to hear because it sounds genuine this time.

That night, we have dinner with the mayor. He's a pretty decent guy, and the food isn't bad, even if it's nothing spectacular. I get the feeling Twelve isn't too big on parties. On the way back to the train, Isidora shares her thoughts on the experience.

"It will be a relief to get out of this place. Everything is so dull! And that dinner, oh, you would think they weren't even trying!"

"I think it's the best they can do. No one could ask them for anything more," I say, taking up for the poor district.

This silences her for a few minutes. Then, when we are stepping onto the platform, Isidora gets some coal dust on her pants, and you would think it was the end of the world. She makes a comment about how she doesn't understand why her life has to be so hard, causing Alec to shoot her a death glare. He's about to say something, but I'm really not in the mood to see them fight.

I grab Alec's hand and shake my head to say "Let it go. It's not worth your time."

"Are all districts like that?" I ask him later that night.

"Most aren't that bad," he answers as he absentmindedly twirls a piece of my hair. "Four, One, and Two are the nicest by far."

I want to talk about how disgusted I am that there are kids with their ribs showing in Twelve while we gorge ourselves with food, but it's clear that this isn't the time or place. The train is most likely bugged.

Over the next two weeks, my life falls into a certain pattern: Breakfast, prep, ceremony, speech, change into evening clothes, dinner, party, sleep, nightmares, wake up screaming, then breakfast all over again. I've had nightmares for the last six months, but being on a Capitol train and reliving the Games each day makes them ten times worse. They are so awful and vivid that I eventually take to not sleeping at all. Instead, I lean against the bed frame and stare emptily up at the ceiling as I tie knot after knot into a rope the twins managed to get me. Every now and then, I slip away, only to jolt awake when the beginnings of a dream form before my eyes. Each morning, the prep team smears concealer over my dark circles and pleads me to get more sleep.

I learn certain things about each district. Eleven has endless miles of sugarcane on one side of the railroad and towering orchards on the other. At first, it seems more lively than the color-drained Twelve, but it soon becomes apparent that it's equally bad. The houses are tiny shacks, Peacekeepers are brutal, and the people seem even more overworked and drained than I thought possible.

Ten and Nine are fairly similar. Both have huge, open fields, though the former contains livestock while the later focuses on food production. The people don't look much happier than they did in Eleven and Twelve.

Eight is filled to the brim with huge factories and an unpleasant smell hangs in the air. I'm horrified to see that several people in the crowd have amputated limbs from what must have been factory mishaps. Seven doesn't seem as bad as the others. Pine trees dominate the landscape and the people at least look strong and fiery. The sole victor from that district exchanges a few words with me at dinner, mostly about the twelve year old boy I killed in order to spare him from a slow and painful death.

Six and Five blur together in my mind. We skip right over Four and head straight to Three. The inhabitants there are predominantly dark-haired with ashen skin. I've always thought it was odd that Three isn't as wealthy as the others located close to the Capitol. My only guess is that the President thinks it's too risky to give them any power when they have technology equal to that of the Capitol.

Two and One are better in some ways and worse in others. It's better because the surroundings are more similar to that of my own district and people don't look beaten down and depressed. What makes it worse is that I had connections to the tributes of these districts. I never did anything to upset Blade's family, but I get too nervous to read my speech when I see Kim's relatives frowning at me. If it weren't for me, she would have returned home to them. In One, Crystal's family thanks me for helping her. Ten minutes later, I get cursed out and nearly attacked by Osten's older brother.

By the time we reach the Capitol, I feel drained. However, that doesn't keep me from putting on a brave face and brushing off everyone's concerns. I know from Alec that rule number one of being a victor is to be excited about the Capitol and the Games. I'm miserably sleep deprived and this trip has made me hate the Capitol more than ever, but I can manage the enthusiastic winner for at least one night, if that's what it takes to keep those I love safe. It's easy to be strong when there are others counting on you.


	19. Powerless

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! We passed the forty mark! This chapter was kind of a struggle to write because I've been cramming a summer's worth of homework and it's left me feeling really uncreative. I hope y'all enjoy it regardless and don't find it too choppy. Oh, and I replied to my two guest reviewers at the bottom :)**

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In a way, the crowd of bustling Capitol citizens almost looks like the tropical fish that swim around District Four's coral reefs. They share the same bright colors and quick-paced movement that is both chaotic and harmonious. It's interesting just to sit back and observe them. They look harmless, but, just like in every coral reef, there is an array of dangerous predators lurking in disguise.

I watch them now and think of home as dinner is served on the table directly in front of me. All of them look thrilled to be able to attend one of the most prestigious parties of the year. I was shipped here directly after my interview with Nathaniel Flickerman. It was pretty easy, actually. All I had to do was gush. Did I have fun on my tour of the districts? Of course I did! How does it feel to be back in the Capitol? Oh, it's the most exciting thing I can imagine and it's such an honor to be here! I managed to answer everything in that manner without letting any sarcasm seep into my voice, which is quite an accomplishment.

Now I'm seated with the other eleven victors at the end of a long table for twelve. Next to me is a young boy from Three who won the year before me. No one expected much of him, but the arena was mostly water that year, and he knew a few things about electronics. The end result wasn't pretty.

I make a few attempts to start a conversation with him, but we only exchange a few words before an awkward silence falls upon us. Neither of us know what to talk about, so I take to studying the rest of the victors at the table. Including me, three are from District Four. One and Two each have a duo of victors. I make a mental note to watch out for them next year because I'm sure Four's recent success will immediately put a target on my tribute's back.

The other five victors hail from Districts Three, Five, Seven, Eight, and Ten. Once again, I think about how hard it must be to be the only victor in a district. There would be no one to turn to when flashbacks and regrets claw at your mind. Despite this, most of them seem to be in good spirits tonight. I don't know if it's the atmosphere or just the fact that they get to socialize with other victors for a change. Over time, I'm sure I'll make friends with some of these people, too.

After dinner, I make my way over to Alec just in time for some Capitol woman to barge in between and ask for a dance. He looks over her shoulder to me in concern, but I just give a little nod to let him know I'm okay with it. I understand that it's his job to keep the people in the Capitol happy. As they glide onto the dance floor, I see a few other victors are there as well. It's those select few that I see on T.V. and advertisements a lot more; the most popular of the popular. I used to dislike them for that. Now I know it means they probably made a mistake in the past and got roped into being figureheads. How many of them have had a loved one die in an "accident"?

Still, I can't say for sure that all of them are enthusiastic about the Games for that reason. Kallan is always energized and pumped for the Games, but over the past few months, I've learned that it's more of a coping strategy for him. It's ironic that he buries his bad experiences in what caused them in the first place, though apparently very effective. Different things work for different people. It fits with his personality, anyway. He is the constantly-smiling life of the party. Even though I know him better now, I still find it hard to tell how much his time as tribute affected him because he just seems like an all-around happy person.

I'm hovering around the desserts table and tugging at my skin-tight silver evening gown when a voice from behind makes me jump. I spin around to see the victors from Five and Seven standing beside me.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I was just going to say that socializing with people here will help you get sponsors in the summer. Everyone here is rich," says Timber, the victor from Seven. I talked to him for a while I was in his district. He is in his mid-twenties and has closely cropped brown hair and matching brown eyes.

"Oh, thank you. That's a really good point," I reply. I look out into the crowd and consider moving, but quickly decide that I'm not really in the mood for socializing. The effects of sleep deprivation are starting to catch up with me, and I just feel tired and weak.

"Well are you going to go?" Timber asks in confusion.

"All I really feel like doing right now is taking a nap," I answer honestly.

Both him and the young woman from Five laugh good-naturedly at that. "Ah, yes. Victory Tour insomnia," the girl says. She looks much different from her male counterpart. Her hair is styled into a honey blonde bob and her eyes are blue on the edges with a rim of gold in the center. I recognize her, but it's clear she's flown under the radar since she won. "I'm Sola, by the way. It's nice to meet you, Magnolia," she adds.

"Nice to meet you, too, Sola. Please, call me Mags," I say with a smile.

"I like Magnolia. It's elegant," she says. "Is it okay if I call you that?"

"Sure," I say with a shrug. Most people, including me, just think it's a mouthful. I'm sure my parents would enjoy hearing someone actually use the name they picked out.

"You looked really lonely here by yourself. Where are the others from Four?" Timber asks.

"I think Kallan's having a drinking contest with District One, and Alec…well, he's busy," I answer, my mouth falling into a frown at the last part. I glance across the ballroom and see that he's surrounded by a group of women now. _I'm not jealous. I completely understand. I'm not jealous, _I repeat to myself. It's true that I understand, but I can't even convince myself that I'm not a tiny bit jealous.

Timber and Sola follow the direction of my eyes and look at each other in understanding. "Why don't you come sit with us?" Sola offers.

I accept. We go back to the long table and talk about our lives for a while. I learn that Timber became a lumberjack at age fifteen and still chops down trees even now that he's rich because there it's better than sitting home all day. Before she was reaped, Sola made extra money for her family by helping pave a few roads in Five. Now she spends her time focusing on gymnastics, which is her passion.

Both of them are drinking, so I pick up a wine glass and drink with them. No one seems to care that I'm underage. If anything, they encourage that sort of thing in the Capitol. I'm not even sure if Sola is old enough to legally drink. I figure she's about borderline. I drink about two glasses, not enough to get drunk, but I start feeling a little different. It's like the edge has been taken off and I'm much more at ease. My thought process works a little slower than my words.

It seems like I'm a little braver, too, because I don't hesitate when I say, "Don't you two ever get mad that things are the way they are? I didn't realize my respect for the Capitol could be any lower until I saw how they treat the other districts."

Both of them glance around nervously. Finally, Timber speaks up. "You shouldn't say things like that. You're new so you probably don't understand, but it's not safe."

I shake my head. "No, I know all about what they do. I know that I'm not supposed to talk about it, but I doubt they're listening right now. It's too loud," I remind him.

"Just lay low and be happy with what you have," Sola adds. "Believe me, you're actually one of the lucky ones, so I don't see why you're worried about the other districts."

"Because it's not right! It doesn't matter if it has no impact on my life. There are still thousands of people starving to death and that has to change," I say, my voice rising enough for the other two to shush me before someone can hear.

"It's sweet that your selfless and all, but that's the kind of talk that will get your whole family killed," Sola counters, and I know she's right.

"I know," I say, softly now. "It's just frustrating."

Frustrating. I think that's a good word to describe this whole experience. The old Mags probably wouldn't have been one to fight for change. I'm pretty easy-going, but I've always hated to see other people hurting. Now that I've been exposed to widespread pain and suffering, I feel like I need to do something to help, but I can't gamble with my family's lives. The country is still broken from the Dark Days, anyway. There's nothing I can do. Suddenly I feel really small and weak. The only hope I can hold onto is that we will get a more fair president in the near future. Burns is already really old.

I grab for another drink because I liked the confident feeling the last two gave me. I've only taken a few sips when Timber takes it away. "Slow down," he says, his brown eyes cautious. "Something tells me this isn't the best time for you to have impaired judgment."

I'm not sure what to say to that, but I don't fight him on it. Just then, I see Alec walking over to join us, and I let a smile take over my face.

"You survived," I say as I exhale in relief.

"Just barely," he comments as he pulls a chair next to us. "One woman who took a picture with me looked really ridiculous. I thought I was going to break down and laugh. Look, there she is."

He points across the room and I immediately know who he's talking about. The first thing I notice is that her hair is molded into a rainbow heart. She has three eye tattoos on her face: one between her actual eyes and the others on her cheeks. Every other inch of visible skin is covered tattoos of mini rainbows.

Either I really am a little tipsy, or the delirium is setting in, because I find it ridiculously hilarious. I have to pause to laugh several times while I say that I'm nicknaming her rainbow fish. The second it's out, I realize it doesn't make sense to the others, so I explain to them how I was thinking all the bright colors and movement makes the scene look like a coral reef. This prompts Timber and Sola to ask what a coral reef is, and that drives our conversation for a while.

People start leaving around one in the morning. Isidora materializes in front of us to ask for help with getting Kallan to the train. I say goodbye to my new friends from Five and Seven.

Sola hugs me. "Good luck, Magnolia. Just…be careful about what you say," she reminds me very deliberately.

When she's gone, I notice Alec looks confused. Oh, right, he wasn't there for that conversation. "Mags, what was that about?" he asks.

"I don't know," I lie, and my eyes drift towards the ground, where the edges of my glittery dress touch the floor. I know he knows I'm lying. It's just that this isn't a conversation I want to have right now. After what happened to his mom, all of this has become a touchy subject for him.

I'm saved from further explanation by Isidora and Kallan. The latter really is a mess. He's saying things that don't make sense, and it's obvious he can walk steadily on his own. I support one of his burly arms as we make our way back to the train.

"We're going to have to take care of him tomorrow, aren't we?" I ask Alec when we've made it back. We've yet to step on the train and the cold wind swirls around us.

"Yep," he answers simply. Then he has another question. "Now that we're outside, what was Sola talking about?"

"I might have starting saying a few things about the Capitol," I admit. I say the words softly and quickly in hope that he won't fully hear them.

He does. "You said things about the Capitol at a party in the president's mansion?" he asks flatly.

"Sure, when you say it like that, it sounds kind of bad. It was loud in there! I swear no one heard me except for them."

"When are you going to drop all of this equality stuff? We agreed the most important thing is to lay low so no one gets hurt and you're doing the opposite. You can't change anything, Mags!" Great, he's annoyed with me now.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to talk about it," I counter. "I know what I'm doing. I wouldn't have been so happy at the interview if I didn't. I get it, okay? Don't I still have a right to be mad at the Capitol, though? You do, too! If it weren't for them, your parents would still be alive!"

"Of course I'm mad! That doesn't mean I talk about it in public! You say you get it, but I don't think you do."

I run my hand over my face, probably messing up my makeup in the process. "I don't want to fight," I say calmly. "I'm not going to do anything to get my family killed. I know I'm not strong enough to fix Panem. I've been reminded of that enough tonight. Let's just pretend this never happened. I'm going catch up on sleep."

"I know you're just trying to do what's right, but you're playing with fire. Trust me, you'll never forgive yourself if something happens because of that. It would be so easy for the Capitol to get their hands on your little cousins," Alec says with a sigh. "Goodnight, Mags."

"Goodnight," I say weakly as I board the train.

Before the tour, I was just focused on my life and how I could learn to live again. Now it seems impossible that I could go back to that and forget everything I've seen. It takes a while of constant self-distraction, but after a few months, the fire really does fade. I still want life to be fair. The difference now is that I have my priorities in order, and number one on the list is to make sure no one gets hurt. I fall back into the pattern of relative normalcy that has driven my life since I've won.

Being away for the Capitol makes it much easier to sleep at night and I learn to appreciate the little things in life again. My eighteenth birthday falls in the spring. I pictured it to be bittersweet because so much has changed in the past year, so I am pleasantly surprised when I enjoy my day. When I watch my class graduate in May, I don't feel sad that I'm not with them. I've accepted my life, and that's all there really is to healing.

The tension starts to build back up steadily as the reaping approaches. I don't know how I'm going to stand getting to know a kid just to watch her murdered before my eyes. Mostly, I worry about Marilla's name being called at the reaping. I know the odds are completely against it, but then I think of Crystal, who was the second child in her family to die in the Games. All I can do is pray that the system isn't rigged. I'm thankful that Hallie is still safe for one more year.

A few days before the reaping, I walk out onto the beach to see two boys who look to be about nine or ten laughing and fighting each other with tridents. I feel my face grow pale as I hear them argue about which one of them will win the Hunger Games in the future.

I've given some thought to how I feel about training. Now that I've actually been through the Games, I can see where it would be useful just to be prepared for if your name was called. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. What I don't like about training is that it twists people's minds and tricks them into believing they have a better chance at winning than everyone else. If they knew what the arena was really like, they would never want to go in, no matter how much honor it would bring to the district.

As I watch the boys now, I know it's only a matter of time before Four goes down the same path as One and Two and opens a Career training school.

That night, Marilla and Hallie sleep over because no matter how much is different now, we are still keeping our reaping day tradition. When I wake up, I take a moment to close my eyes and remember this day last year. I woke up at my aunt and uncle's house. Marilla was squished against my back and I had to pull the thin mattress out from her and Hallie to wake them up. Kai was sleeping on his own bed on the other side of the room. I had no idea that he would volunteer or that my name would be called.

Somewhere out there, two teenagers are waking up right now, completely unaware that they will be on a Capitol train in mere hours. Completely unaware that no matter what happens in that arena, their lives change today, and there is no going back.

I gulp as I shift through my closet and see the green button-down dress I wore last year. Even though I don't really believe in bad luck, my experience with that dress is enough for me to never want to touch it again. I pull on another dress that is simple by Capitol standards and head to the guest bedroom to wake up my cousins.

They are already awake when I walk in. Marilla is pacing around the room and Hallie looks close to tears. I sit next to Hallie and wrap my arms around her. "Are you nervous?" I ask Marilla. I think I said something similar last year, but it seems ridiculous this time around, considering she's pacing.

"The odds are against me being picked," she answers to avoid saying "yes".

I wish I could comfort her.

After she has changed into a sky blue blouse and skirt, I reach up and help her with her hair. I still can't believe she's taller than me now. When did she grow up? I don't know how I missed that.

I want to walk them to the reaping, but I'm required to get there earlier so I can sit on stage with the other victors. I try to be calm as I walk to Town Square with Alec and Kallan. It doesn't work too well. By the time we get there, my breaths are shallow and my heart is racing.

Alec grips my hand in support. "It's going to be okay. I know you'll be great as a mentor."

"Thanks. I hope so," I say. I really want to curl up against him right now, but I don't think that would be acceptable at the moment. I have to look dignified as a victor.

The Square fills up with kids pretty quickly. Just like every other year, their faces look scared and sad. Just like people on a normal day in some of the poorer districts… I chase that thought away before it can grow.

My heart rate feels off as Isidora climbs onto the stage and does her long-winded introduction. As always, I block most of it out. Finally, she reaches into the reaping ball and pulls out the boy's name. In my nervousness, I don't quite catch it, but I see a smallish kid mope up to the stage. It's not long before he is replaced with a volunteer. A boy volunteer two years in a row. Yeah, we're definitely headed towards career status.

"Michael Harbor," the volunteer announces when Isidora asks for his name, and it's then I recognize him. He was in my grade back in school. I never really talked to him, though I think we might have had a class or two together a few years back. He looks like he's been working out for this moment because he's more muscular than I remember. His signature spiky blond hair remains unchanged.

All I can do is wonder why he would want to do this. District Four won only last year, so it's not like there's even a good chance of us winning again for a while. He just graduated. Why throw his life away now?

I forget all about Michael Harbor as Isidora reaches into the girl's ball. I feel the now familiar knots tearing away at my stomach as I remember how I felt at this moment last year. Please don't be Marilla. Please, please, pleaseee.

It's not. "Cyana Wilson!" Isidora calls.

A scream comes from the crowd, and my eyes flicker to the fifteen-year-old section. A young girl has her arms around who must be Cyana. "No, Cy! No, you can't go!" she cries, making a scene.

Peacekeepers approach to separate the friends and send Cyana on her way to the stage. When she climbs up the steps, I am able to get a better look at the girl I will be mentoring. She does not cry, but her big grey eyes are wide and terrified. Her dress is not long enough to hide the knocking in her knees. She has shoulder length curly brown hair and looks closer to my age than fifteen because she is shaped more like a woman than a girl.

I feel sad when I think that this girl will probably be dead in two weeks. If she dies a painful death, I will live knowing that she was my responsibility and I failed.

As the two tributes shake hands, I decide that I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure Cyana Wilson gets home safely. What I can't help is that "everything in my power" may not be enough.

**Flora: Aw, thank you so much! Your review made me smile :)**

**Dusty714: Thank you for reviewing again! :) I'm really, really glad that you're still enjoying the story. I'll be honest, I got a little lazy when I got to the districts part of the victory tour, so hopefully I can make up for that. Thanks again, and I hope this update doesn't disappoint!**


	20. Mentor

**A/N: 51 reviews?! That's incredible! I want to thank all of you so much! I honestly didn't expect to get much feedback when I started writing this so all of these reviews have made me extremely happy :) Also, updates will probably be every Saturday from here on out, unless I get free time during the school week.**

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The sun breaks through the overcast sky just as the new tributes head to the Justice Building to say their goodbyes. It seems almost inappropriate considering the situation. Sunlight overpowering gloomy clouds is usually considered inspirational or even triumphant. A dark, foreboding sky would make more sense today.

I have an hour of free time before I have to be at the train station. It passes very quickly. There's just enough time to say goodbye to my family and throw together a small suitcase of clothes I would rather wear than the outfits the Capitol provides. Just like this morning, I can't help but think back to how I felt at this moment last year. Terrified and empty. I didn't even feel strong enough to hold a conversation with anyone until I was able to let my emotions out in private.

Alec is already on the train when I get there because I told him I would meet him here. He's sitting in one of the now-familiar plush red chairs across from Michael. Cyana is near them, yet she seems distant. Her gray eyes are focused on the ground and her curly hair hides most of her face. I leave my suitcase near the door and go to greet them.

"Hey, how's everyone holding up?" I ask cautiously.

"Good," Michael answers automatically. "I think my favorite part so far are these chairs," he adds.

I have to smile at that. "They are nice chairs," I agree.

I immediately feel guilty about deciding that I'm going to help my tribute win no matter what. I've never even talked to Michael before, but he is a part of my past, no matter how small that connection may be. He's going to be one of the oldest tributes, and is also very strong, so maybe he actually stands a chance. Maybe. It's not likely that Four will win again so soon. Nevertheless, it would be good for our District if he survives, so I will try to help him out too, though my main priority is to help the girl.

"What about you, Cyana?" I ask, turning towards her.

She looks up and meets my eyes for a few seconds before shifting her gaze back to the ground. "Not great…I'm trying," she says in a voice so small it's barely audible. Her lip quivers a bit, and I think she's going to cry. She then takes a deep breath and pulls herself back together.

I rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know, it's okay. There are rooms down the hallway that you can use if you need a personal moment." That's what I needed last year. I wonder if it will help her the same way.

She looks back up at me and tries to give me a small smile. "Thank you. I think I'm okay for now, but I might do that a little later."

Before I can reply to that, Isidora bursts through the door. Alec raises an eyebrow at her. "Isidora Satin, late? That's a first."

"It's not my fault!" she answers defensively. "I had to arrange for Kallan to be picked up by another train since he's not going to the training center. He gets to stay in a five-star hotel for the duration of the Hunger Games. Speaking of the Hunger Games, aren't you tributes just so excited?! The best part is that it's the thirteenth Games. Thirteen is a lucky number, you know!" she squeals.

I look at her in confusion. "Wait, I thought thirteen was an unlucky number. You know, like Friday the Thirteenth?"

Isidora stares at me blankly for a second. Then her expression changes to one of disapproval. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mags, but I'm sure these kids don't appreciate your pessimism," she says flatly.

"Friday the Thirteenth is a district thing," Alec explains for me. "You're supposed to be careful because it's considered bad luck."

Isidora just shakes her head. "While we're here, thirteen is a lucky number, and I don't want to hear otherwise." Just when I think she's done talking, she sees my suitcase lying in the middle of the floor. "Mags, you know better than to leave luggage laying around like this! You should have gotten an avox to take care of it."

"I'll get it," I say, once again feeling like Isidora has turned into a more colorful and bubbly version of my mother. I see Cyana giggle a bit at our exchange. Maybe it isn't such a bad thing, as long as it makes my tribute feel more comfortable here.

After I've brought my stuff to one of the rooms, I sit down in one of the chairs Michael was so impressed with. Alec speaks up first.

"Mike says he just graduated. Did you two know each other at school?" Alec asks me.

"Yeah, I didn't really know him, but I knew of him. I think we had a class together when we were around twelve."

"We did?' Michael asks, clearly surprised. "Which one?"

"Umm, I think it was Mrs. Netty's class? I remember the teacher was really OCD and you used to rearrange all the things on her desk."

"Oh, yeah," he says in recognition. "She deserved it. I didn't realize you were in that class. You must have been really quiet."

I shrug. "I guess. I didn't have any close friends in that class." It doesn't really surprise me that he doesn't know me. I was always the type of person who surrounded herself with a few friends. He was a lot more popular.

"I knew your cousin," Cyana speaks up shyly. "He was in the grade above me. My best friend had the biggest crush on him."

It's gotten much easier for me to talk about Kai, but all the memories swirling around in my head today makes her words puncture me a little harder than usual.

Cyana sees my expression. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"No, it's fine," I tell her. "You didn't do anything wrong. A lot of girls liked Kai, didn't they?"

She relaxes visibly. "Yeah," she answers.

After a few more minutes of talking, everyone retreats to their rooms until dinner and the televised reapings recap. I go with Alec because I don't feel like being alone right now.

Sometimes when a day has been particularly draining, it's nice to just lay in silence, knowing the person next to you has your back but won't pressure you to talk. We lay on top the covers, half-propped up against a pillow. With my head rested against Alec's shoulder, I can faintly hear the beating on his heart. It's such a nice sound that I reposition myself to where my ear is against his chest.

Right now, I can't think of any sound better than a beating heart. It's so strong and vital, the definition of life itself. Both of us were thrown into an arena where twenty-three hearts were silenced, yet ours still beat just as they have since the day we came into this world. It's the only thing that has remained steady amidst all the change.

"Comfortable?" Alec asks as he draws his arm around me.

"Mhmm." I allow myself to close my eyes and focus on the beat.

A while passes before thoughts of the Hunger Games overpower the calm. "Can you believe it's been a year since we met? It seems like forever ago and only yesterday all at the same time. Does that make any sense?" I ask, opening my eyes and turning to look at his face.

"It does. So much has happened, but it's always the best and worst times that stick out in your memory."

"That's true. I wish I could get rid of the bad memories and save more good ones." I tense up when I realize that these next few weeks could only add to the bad memories. If they keep building up every year, how much room will be left for happiness? "I'm a little nervous about mentoring," I admit. I hope he doesn't mind the sudden jump in our conversation.

"It's better than being in the arena," he responds. That's really not saying much…

"Can you give me any tips?" I ask eagerly.

"You want me to mentor you on mentoring?" We both laugh at that.

"Yes," I answer, pulling myself closer to his face. "Sorry, but you can't escape being my mentor."

He smiles, and I love the way it lights up his face. "There's only so much you can do. Figure out what your tributes strengths are and help guide them into alliances. Come up with an interview angle. Get sponsors." His expression changes slightly at the last part and his green eyes flick away from mine.

"What about sponsors? I need to know, even if it's bad," I respond in a concerned tone.

"Nothing," he answers with a quick shake of the head. "Some people are just really hard to deal with. I'll help you with it. Anyway, once the Games start, you spend most of your time in the Mentor Room. There are a bunch of screens and maps and buttons. That's where you send parachutes to your tribute."

An idea pops into my head. "Do you think we can get our tributes to ally with each other? It would be a lot easier to help them if they stick together."

"Maybe. I haven't talked to Mike about that yet. You're right though, it would be better that way."

I nod and glance at the clock. "Any last words of advice before we go back out there?"

Alec think about that for a moment. "Don't get too attached," he says finally. "I made that mistake my first year…and last year. Definitely last year."

I blush when I realize what he means. "Then we both lucked out, didn't we?"

"You could say that." He erases the tiny distance between our faces by kissing me, and even now, my heart rate still goes crazy. After he pulls away, I think of something else to ask.

"What about your second year?"

"We didn't exactly get along at all. It's not like I was happy to see her die, but I didn't feel as guilty. I knew there was nothing I could do for her if she wouldn't accept any help."

"Oh. At least this year's tributes don't seem as stubborn," I comment.

"We should go see them now," he reminds me.

When we make it back to the living room, dinner is being served. Mike is circling the table in amazement. "Are other people coming eat with us?" he asks when he sees us.

"No, this is all for our little group," Isidora chimes in, and it's clear she's explained this a hundred times. I asked her the same thing last year.

"I'll go get Cyana," I say. I walk down the hallway, uncertain which door she's behind. A passing avox helpfully points it out to me. I knock on the door and wait for about a minute before the fifteen-year-old girl comes to the door. Her eyes are red, a dead giveaway that she was crying. Her hair's a little disheveled, too. Other than that, she looks fine.

"It's time for dinner. I know our escort over-exaggerates how exciting everything is, but I have a feeling you'll enjoy this," I say with a smile.

"Okay," she says in slight confusion. When she sees the table piled high with delicacies, her jaw literally drops. "All of this…this is…wow, just wow."

"Wait until you taste it," I say.

The five of us sit around the table. Mike and Cy dig into the food like they have never seen any in their lives, causing Isidora to reprimand them. Every few minutes, she pleads them to use their utensils and set their napkins on their laps. I'm sure I was the same way last year. By now, I'm used to it.

The reapings come on a little later, and I know it's just as crucial for me to get a good look at the competition this time around, even if I'm not competing.

The reapings in One and Two are a little different than last year. This time, there are two volunteers from One and only one from Two. It goes by too fast for me to remember much more about them, except that the girl who volunteered from Two looks a little like Cyana. She has the same curvy body and curly dark hair, but her face is shaped different and she looks more threatening than my tribute.

I try to compile a list in my head of anyone who stands out. As usual, it's just a handful of people. One thing that surprises me is that there is a volunteer from Nine. I'm not sure if the boy was just volunteering to save someone or really wants to play. He doesn't seem too excited, so I don't know whether I should respect him or label him as a threat. Another thing I notice is that the boy from Twelve looks strong, at least compared to that district's usual crop. I would probably root for the underdog districts if I didn't have my own to care for.

I wonder how others are analyzing District Four. It's definitely obvious that Michael is a physical threat, which is both good and bad. It will make a world of a difference when it comes to getting sponsors, but at the same time, it puts a huge target on his back.

Cyana isn't young enough to elicit sympathy or old enough to appear as a front-runner. She doesn't look brutal enough to come off as a threat. Then again, I don't consider myself brutal, either. I just barely held it together at my own reaping, yet it was me who came home alive. Not any of the volunteers.

Our group mulls over the competition for a while before we fall into more casual conversation. The train ride to the Capitol isn't all that long. We pull in front of the training center just before eleven. I think of Kallan and how he gets to stay in a nice hotel without the pressure of mentoring, and I have to admit that I'm a little jealous.

The rest of the night is uneventful. Within twenty minutes of our arrival, everyone goes to turn in for the night. I unpack my suitcase and brace myself for the onslaught of nightmares. They are brutal, just as they are every time I sleep in the Capitol. Awful memories cross my thoughts far too often to be ignored by my subconscious. But, just like always, I survive. In the morning, I take deep breaths as I look out the window and see the last trains arriving.

There's not much for me to do today, though the tributes will have to spend hours going through prep for tonight's opening ceremonies. I walk quietly through the halls and sit idly on the sofa while I wait for someone to wake up. After a while, Alec walks into the living area.

"Where's everyone at?" he asks loudly.

"Shh, the kids are still sleeping." After I've said it, I realize how it sounded. "I mean the tributes. That sounded really weird."

Alec laughs. "You would be the one to say something like that. We are kind of responsible for them in a way."

"Yeah, once you get past the fact that one of them is the same age as me," I add.

Maybe that sentence will be something I say a lot in the future. I can picture it now: peeking through bedroom doors to see little sleeping children and trying to be quiet enough not to wake them from their peaceful dreams. I want it to happen. I'm just not as sure now that having kids when I'm older is a good idea. Their lives would always be at risk…

Once I've started thinking about it, it's hard to stop. I weigh out the pros and cons as I pick at my breakfast an hour later. I'm only eighteen, so it isn't something I should have to put much thought into right now. I have all the time in the world. What's bothering me is that I always saw a big family as part of my future, even after I came home from the Games. It was part of the reason I fought so hard to survive. The difference is now I know more about how the Capitol arranges "accidents." It drives me crazy that the Capitol has this much influence over what I want in life.

"Mags, why don't you go bring Cyana to prep?" Isidora asks, effectively bringing me back to the present conversation.

"Okay. Are you ready?" I ask my tribute.

She suddenly looks really nervous. "How bad is it going to be? I don't feel comfortable with them …you know…seeing me naked." She blushes out of embarrassment.

"The prep team is really nice. I promise they won't make you feel uncomfortable. They're going to explain everything to you and, once you get past the waxing, the rest isn't bad at all."

She relaxes just a tad. "What about the stylist?"

"Lilith is a little rough around the edges, but it's something you get used to," I answer.

"Ugh, I can't stand Lilith. I'm sorry you have to deal with that disgusting human being," Isidora huffs. Someone can sure hold a grudge. Something tells me the short but heated argument they had six months ago wasn't the first. I shoot her a look that says _'Not Helping'_.

"Forget about what Isidora said," I explain to Cyana as I guide her through the remake center. "They just don't care for each other. I'm sure Lilith will make you look beautiful."

"I just hope I don't look ridiculous. I'm crossing my fingers for a mermaid costume. I hate when they dress people as fish," she responds, and I nod in agreement.

"She dressed me as a sea goddess because scales weren't in fashion last year. I already saw some people wearing them when we got off the train, so it's pretty safe to say it's between a mermaid and a fish."

We reach the door then. "See you later," I tell her. She walks in and I am left without much to do. I know most of my free time in the next week will be spent getting sponsors, but there's no point in starting now. Panem hasn't even really seen the tributes yet. Besides, I'm not even sure how to go about getting sponsors.

Alec leaves about midday to make some television appearance, and I tell him I will go pick up Michael for him. When he comes out of prep a little while later, I see the stylists have decided on fish.

Mike is dressed in a scaly teal jumpsuit that stretches from his neck to his wrists and ankles. At least it is form-fitting enough to show he is muscular. Still, that doesn't make up for the ridiculous fish hat sitting on his head. The way it's lips are positioned makes it look like it is going to swallow Mike's head. The only other noticeable additions to the costume are triangular fins that jut out of his back and elbows.

"Don't you dare laugh," Mike warns me. "My stylist is an idiot. I wanted to punch her when she showed me the hat."

"Could've been worse," is all I say.

It takes a lot longer for Cyana to come out because girls have to go through more prep than boys. Hair, nails, and makeup are very time consuming. When she finally exits the door, I see she is in a similar outfit as Michael, only hers is much skimpier. My first thought is that the outfit is too revealing. How did Lilith even manage to make a fish costume revealing?

Cyana's outfit is made of the same scale-patterned jumpsuit material. Instead of covering her whole body, the fabric is fashioned into an extremely short skirt and is in patches over her chest. Her stomach and legs are painted in a scale pattern, but it is a much lighter teal than the color of the fabric. Under her matching creepy fish head, her hair has been straightened and now contains a streak of blue. Her makeup is also done in a light blue and her eyeliner makes her eyes look even bigger. She looks like an adult in this clothing (or lack thereof), except for her eyes, which are still childlike and innocent. In my opinion, fifteen is too young to be dressed like this.

I see Mike's eyes widen for a split second. "Wow, you look really good, minus the hat," he says.

"How do you feel?" I ask her.

"Exposed," she replies in her quiet voice.

"Do you want me to talk to Lilith for you?" I ask. "I could probably persuade her to give you a cover-up or something."

"You don't have to if you don't want to. I mean, it would be really nice and I'd appreciate it, but you don't have to," she answers.

"I'll be just a second, guys," I tell the tributes as I walk in the door Cyana just came out of.

The prep team is cleaning up various bottles, and they smile widely when they see me. Lilith isn't as enthusiastic. "What do you want?' she asks flatly.

"Do you think you could make Cyana's costume a little less…skimpy? She's kind of shy, and I want her to feel comfortable and not exposed."

Lilith groans. "Look, child, let me explain this to you. One: there isn't time. Two: Even if there was time, there would be no reason to change anything. The point of all the pre-Games events is to attract attention. We both know there's only one way that girl's going to get sponsors. I would have done the same for you if it was even an option. Trust me, it's a blessing they altered you."

Ouch. That personal dig at the end was a little unnecessary. I cross my arms over myself self-consciously. What really bothers me about her statement, though, is that I can't say she's wrong. There are a bunch of disgusting old men out there who will sponsor Cyana for the wrong reason. I don't think making her more comfortable now wins out against the opportunity to help her in the arena later. "Do you really think so?" I ask Lilith, unsurely now.

"I know so. I've been in this business for years," she says more calmly. "Now out, out! I have work to do!"

"Sorry for interrupting," I say, feeling defeated. I feel like going with this angle for sponsors makes me no better than the perverts who judge teenage girls on their bodies. But what else can I do?

"Sorry, Cy, they can't change it," I tell her once I'm back in the hallway.

"It's okay," she answers. Her voice sounds disappointed.

Later that night, I learn that Cyana's costume isn't the most revealing of the bunch. District Twelve's children are normally dressed as coal miners. This year, they are completely naked. The only thing that makes it a "costume" is the fact that they are covered in black coal dust, not that it hides anything. Their expressions are somewhere in between humiliated and furious.

"I take it back. I actually feel pretty covered now," Cyana says.

"If you feel nervous, just be thankful you aren't naked. That goes for you too, Mike." I tell them before I leave them by the chariot. When I get back to Isidora, I see Alec has returned.

"Did I miss anything today?" he asks.

I decide to play off the whole "kids" thing we talked about this morning. "Oh, you wouldn't believe how long it took to get the kids dressed and ready while you were at work."

Alec catches on immediately. "I heard there was a problem with the way our daughter was dressed. I can see why you wouldn't want her leaving the house like that," he says, but he starts laughing halfway through and it's impossible to take him seriously. Of course, that makes me laugh, too.

Isidora looks puzzled again. "I am so done with trying to understand you two," she says dramatically.

"Inside joke," I explain.

The three of us watch as the horses take off and the tribute parade begins. It looks like all fun and games now, but that can't hide the fact that these smiling and waving teens will be killing each other a week from now. Each of them will undergo the journey I did last year; the journey I wish I never would have been forced to take.

In the meantime, I will be undergoing a different journey. I will find out what it's like to get sponsors and watch over tributes in a control room. After I've learned, I will come back and repeat the process every year.

Michael and Cyana wave to us as they pass. I smile and wave back, and in that second, I remember Alec's warning earlier: Don't get too attached. The reality is that I can't protect them. Will I be able to get up and move on, unscarred, if they die?

I get the feeling that I'm already tottering dangerously close to the "attached" status, and it's only been a day and a half. This can't continue on for the next week. I've always known mentoring would be a challenge, but I'm just realizing how hard it is to get to know someone you will have to watch die.

**Chapter 19 guest review replies:**

**Bigdreams: Thank you for the review! I hope you like this chapter : )**

**Dusty714: Thank you so much! I'm going to try to keep my chapters long, especially since I can't update as frequently now. I'm glad you're excited and I hope you enjoy Mags mentoring : )**


	21. Sponsor

**A/N: Sorry it's a day late, but I hope it's worth it. My goal is to get another chapter out within the next few days, so that will be some lagniappe. (That means a little something extra) Please review :)**

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"What would you say your strengths are?" I ask. Today is the first day of training for the tributes, and I figured it would be best to meet privately with Cyana to start discussing strategy. I'm sitting cross-legged on the edge of her bed, trying not to let memories of my stay in this very room resurface.

"Um, I'm not sure. I don't have any experience with weapons…" she trails off. She has her legs pulled up against her with her arms wrapped around. "Sorry I'm not giving you much to work with," she adds with a sigh.

I shift my gaze over to her. "Don't apologize. You do have strengths; you just don't realize it yet. There's a reason District Four has been successful in the Games."

"Because we know how to swim?" she asks.

"That's a good start. There's always water in the arena, so you already have an advantage." Well, unless there's a kid from Three who has access to electricity. I decide not to tell her that part. It's better to focus on the positives.

"Fishing should help, too," Cyana says pensively. Her gray eyes look focused on something far away. I see her shoulders ease a bit, and I know that this is helping her feel more confident.

"It definitely will. Are you good with knots or knives?"

"I guess I'm okay with knots. I was never really one for gutting fish, though," she answers.

"That's okay. While you're in training, practice with all the different weapons and choose what works the best for you. Then use that one in your private session. Don't forget the survival stations, either. Fire-building and edible plants are important," I say.

"Okay," she says automatically.

I remember something else then. "Oh, and don't let anyone pressure you into joining an alliance. Be friendly, but don't make a decision until you know you can trust them. I would stay away from One and Two, and the boy from Nine, just in case." I can't picture Cy being in a career alliance. She just seems too innocent and I don't trust them not to turn on her. "Just observe people today and see what they can do. Then we'll figure it out."

"What about Mike? Is he teaming up with the other volunteers?" Cyana questions me, her voice rising in concern.

"I don't know. I'll talk to him later today. I think you two should team up because he's really the only one you can trust. District teammates protect each other." The second after I say that, I remember Osten's personal vendetta against Crystal. He was eager to kill her, even if he knew that her winning would be good for District One. No, Michael isn't like Osten. He wouldn't kill Cyana, right? I'm fairly sure he wouldn't.

"He has a better chance of surviving than I do," Cyana admits sadly.

"It's not always the volunteer that wins. I never trained for the Games."

"Yeah, but it's not like you were hopeless, either. You made an eight in training. I'll be lucky to get over a four."

"Stop talking like that!" I say sternly. "You're just setting yourself up for failure."

"My best friend always says lowering expectations actually makes you happier. When we go out on the boat to fish, we don't expect anything, so even if we only catch a few, it's a success."

I have to admit, I remember using the same logic last year when it came to making it far in the Games. That doesn't make me feel any better about what Cyana is saying now.

"When you lower your expectations, you still know deep down that you'll do better. You just set your standards for success lower. There's too much at stake here for that. You need to be confident so you can do your best. Don't expect a three in training and be happy to get a five. The only way to do well is to aim higher. Understand?"

She nods, but she still looks unsure. Apparently, my little motivational speech wasn't enough. I'm going to have to dig deeper.

"Tell me about your best friend. Is she the one who was clinging to you at the reaping?" I ask.

"Yeah, that was her. Her name's Cerulean, but everyone calls her Lea. I know, the nickname is a bit of a stretch. Both our names mean blue, so some people call us Blue One and Blue Two. Everyone says we're practically the same person because we are so close. I trust that girl with my life."

"What would you have done if she had been reaped instead of you?" I ask.

Cyana's face pales at the thought. She looks down and her dark hair shields her face. "I don't know. That would have been awful. I guess I would have tried to volunteer, but she would have stopped me. I would have promised to look after her little brother and begged her to win."

I nod. "And what if she decided that she didn't stand a chance and didn't even try to come home? What would you do if you had to see her give up of television when she could be fighting for her life?"

That seems to make something click in Cyana's mind. She looks up and meets my eyes. "I can't do that to Lea," she says softly.

"Then fight. For her sake. For your family's sake," I tell her.

"I will," she says, finally sounding determined. Her expression falters a few seconds later. "Mags, if I don't make it back, can you go visit her for me? I wish I would've told her how lucky I was to have her as a friend, and that I want her to stay strong no matter what happens. I just couldn't find any words to say when it was time for goodbyes."

"I promise I will," I reply. I feel hurt at the thought of this scenario playing out because it would mean Cyana would be dead. This is exactly what I don't need to be doing right now: getting more attached.

Now I'm feeling stressed, when I should at least be glad I was able to get through to Cyana. My tribute's next comment takes me by surprise.

"You don't seem like a victor, you know. I don't mean that in a bad way. It's just that, even though I saw you on T.V., you don't seem like you could hurt anyone. I didn't think victors could be nice people."

"Thanks, but I did hurt people," I say sadly.

"If you regret it, it doesn't count. You had no choice."

I'm not so sure about that.

"Come on, let's go back to the living room," I say to change the subject. Only a few minutes pass before Lilith shows up to deliver the training outfits.

"Ew," Isidora comments as Lilith passes. Perhaps I was wrong about thinking of her as a mother figure. Sometimes she acts more like a teenage girl. Still, I have to admit that the death glare Lilith gives her in return is pretty funny.

Soon after, Mike and Cy return to the living room dressed in black and red training clothes. As Isidora leads them out the door and to the elevator, I offer last words of encouragement. "Listen to the instructors and be nice to the other tributes!"

"Now you sound like you're sending them off to school," Alec comments.

"I can't help it, okay?" I say, trying to sound irritated, but I'm still amused by our running joke. "Are we supposed to go get sponsors now?"

"We can go now if you want. I was thinking we should just split whatever we make between the two tributes. That would be easiest if they are in an alliance, but it'll work either way."

"Is that what you and Kallan usually do?" I ask. Splitting the sponsorship money seems like a good idea, but I 'm not sure if it's completely fair. Alec will probably get more donations than me. Then it would seem like I'm mooching off of him and using money that's supposed to be for Michael.

"Pretty much. Tributes from Four usually ally together so it works out that way anyway. We're all a team," he answers.

"I guess you're right. I just want to make sure I pull my own weight."

"You'll be fine. You might want to dress a little nicer before we go down there, though. It's an upscale place," Alec says, eyeing my worn-out tank top and white shorts. If making myself look presentable is what it takes to get sponsors, I'll do it.

I retreat to my room and undress. Then I open the closet and shift through the outfits that have been provided for me until I find a satiny dress that I wouldn't mind wearing. My hair could use some work, but I'm eager to leave, so I just pull it out of my messy bun and brush it until it looks passable.

It turns out that the sponsorship room is in the training center. Alec presses one of the many buttons on the elevator that I ignored before, and we travel first sideways, then down until we reach our destination. The room is very large and dimly lit. The only light comes from orange-tinted lamps that are set on tables and on the walls. I don't understand how dim lighting equates to formal, but there's a lot about the Capitol that I don't get. It must be in fashion or something.

The part of the room closest to us is filled with tables for two draped with lace tablecloths, making it look like a restaurant. Beyond that, there is a bar and a wide open area where people are standing and talking with one another. Sure enough, everyone is dressed nicely. I recognize a few other victors and escorts conversing with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol.

"Come on," Alec says as I am still taking it all in. I follow him over to the far side of the room. From what I can tell, sponsors come in through a door over here and wait to be approached by someone asking for a donation. I'm still not completely clear on the entire process because I used to be under the impression that sponsors called a phone number to place their donation. Aside from that, I don't understand how districts without victors get sponsors through this process. Do the escorts carry that burden? Oh well, I'll just have to learn as I go.

We walk up to a plump woman staring impatiently at her solid gold wristwatch. She smiles widely when she sees us, showcasing a mouth of sapphire-colored teeth.

"Nice to see you again," Alec says easily, smiling back.

"Well of course. I wasn't going to let you down," the woman says in a raspy voice that doesn't match her appearance. Her eyes flicker over to me, and I can tell that she's a little annoyed that I'm here. She doesn't say anything about it. "Should we get a table?" she asks, turning back to Alec.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he replies, and the three of us walk over to the restaurant area. I'm not exactly sure if I'm supposed to sit with them, but Alec pulls up a third chair, so it must be okay. An avox serves us drinks and they start conversing about the District Four tributes. I know I should say something to help. I just don't know what to say because I feel so awkward and out of place. The woman is completely ignoring my presence, anyway. The term "third wheel" comes to mind.

"Let me tell you about Michael Harbor. He's strong and determined. I'd say he stands a good chance, and, as you know, sponsors usually have the final say in who wins. I'd be really, really grateful if your donation is what saves him in the end," he tells the woman.

The woman is smiling again, and she leans in close to him. "I'd be delighted to. I swear, you can convince me to sponsor any tribute. It worked out well for the girl last year."

Does she really not realize I'm sitting right here? "We really appreciate it. It makes all the difference in the world," I add, struggling to keep the annoyance from seeping into my tone.

She looks at me again and grunts in irritation. "Alec, it would be a pleasure to meet with you later. I just remembered I have somewhere to be." She pulls paper and a pen out of her enormous purse and scribbles something. Then she hands it to Alec. I see that it's a check for a large sum of money. Under it is a slip of paper with what looks like a phone number.

After she's gone, Alec exhales in relief. "That went well," he says, examining the check.

"Really? That's not how I would describe it," I reply.

"Why not?" he asks in confusion.

"Aside from the fact that it was the most awkward thing ever, the woman was rude and I chased her away the second I opened my mouth."

He disagrees. "We still got the money. And besides, I owe you one for making her leave. Really, it made it much faster and easier. I should take you with me more often."

"Yeah, but that wasn't intentional. I wasn't trying to chase anyone away. Is there any other way to get sponsors that doesn't involve dealing with these people?"

"After the interview, people call in with small donations that automatically go to the district account. That's not something you want to depend on, though. The people who come here are the richest of the rich, and it's a lot more crowded at night, especially when the Games start. This is where the real money comes from," Alec says.

It looks like this is just something I will have to deal with. We work on a handful of people over the next two hours. There's one man who isn't as unpleasant as the others. He seems genuinely interested in talking about the tributes instead of just flirting and doesn't ignore me when I talk. I hope there will be more people like that.

We get back to the fourth floor a little while before Mike and Cyana return.

"How was training?" I ask from the sofa when I hear them walk in.

"Fine," they say in unison. I answer people that way all the time when they ask about my day, but this time, I understand how it feels to want more details.

"Tell me about it," I say. "It's my job to know so I can help you."

"I learned camouflage and tied some knots before lunch. Then I went to fire-building and archery," Cyana answers.

"That's good," I say in approval.

"What about you, Mike?" Alec asks.

"I'm allying with One and Two," he says.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I say, my brow knitting in concern. I don't personally know this year's tributes, but I had trust issues with the careers the entire time I was allied with them last year. I've always thought that anyone determined enough to volunteer for the Games isn't safe. They know they have to kill to win, even if it means turning on allies. On top of that, District Four has been more successful than One and Two lately. That only puts Mike more at risk.

"Well that's what I decided. I know what I'm doing," he says stubbornly.

"The Games are unpredictable and people change. Are you sure you have it planned out?" Alec asks.

"Yeah." Mike says. I have to ask him to be more specific before he gives a real answer. "A lot of the tributes are just scared little kids. I need allies, and I don't have time to babysit because I would end up doing all the work. Tiffany, Orion, and Alaina know what they're doing. I'm not sure about Craig, but we're dragging him along for Alaina's sake."

"Are Craig and Alaina from Two?" Alec asks before I get the chance.

"Yep. And Tiff and Orion are from One. We might recruit Nasser from Twelve," Michael answers.

"Twelve?" I ask, stunned. I remember noting that the boy from Twelve looked strong, but this suggests he could be a front-runner.

After Mike nods to verify I heard him correctly, I look back to Cyana. "Did you see any possible allies today?"

She blinks in confusion. "I thought I was just supposed to observe today. I didn't talk to anyone."

"That's fine," I say to calm her. "I was just wondering if anyone stood out to you."

"Oh, I'm not sure yet," she says.

I realize I really have no control over how these alliances are going to play out. If I could, I would go to training with them to appraise the others and offer advice. But I can't. The best I can do is try to persuade Mike to ally with Cyana instead, and the chance of that happening is slim. I add that on the list of things for me to do later. I'll have to talk with Mike privately and wish for the best.

It's already stressing me out. Since I don't have any rope or knitting needles on hand, I resort to pacing around the room. Isidora is the only one left in the living room, and she finally speaks up after a few minutes. "You're making me nervous with all that pacing. You need to relax."

"I know," I say as I come to a stop and plop down on the sofa.

"Why don't you go get some sponsors?" Isidora suggests. "That way you'll actually be doing something productive."

I think Isidora just had a decent idea. I was planning on waiting for Alec to come with me again, but he didn't sleep at all last night and finally crashed. It would be best to let him sleep. Also, I think I desperately need to prove to myself that I'm capable of helping our tributes.

"That's a good idea. I'll do that," I say.

I haven't even made it to the door when Isidora stops me. "Mags Brine, are you about to go down to the Sponsorship Hall in _flats_?" she asks in disgust. I sigh in exasperation, but I don't stop her from forcing me into heels and fixing my hair because I know it's a battle I'll lose anyway.

By the time I finally make it to the hall, it's fairly crowded. I wander over to where the sponsors are entering and search for someone to approach. I catch sight of an tall, older man standing off by himself. What really catches my eye isn't his lavish clothes, but the fact that he has the same triangular tattoo as the man Alec and I worked with earlier. Of course, it's most likely just a design that's in fashion. However, I can't help but think this tiny connection might be a sign that this man will be kind and pleasant like the other guy was.

"Hello, sir," I say as I slide over to him. "I'm Mags. How are you doing tonight?"

"I'm fine. There was no need for you to introduce yourself; everyone knows who you are. I'm Abuter Cario." he says, gripping my hand tightly in a handshake. I lose some of my confidence when I see the look in his eyes. Something about them suggests danger.

"Which one are you in charge of?" he asks.

"Cyana Wilson. The one with the curly brown hair," I explain.

"Ah, I think I remember now. Pretty little lady. Very…mature looking. It would be a shame for the little beauty to die."

I don't like the way he's talking about her. He must be at least in his fifties. What right does he have to look at a fifteen-year-old girl that way? However twisted his reasons may be, his money will help Cyana, so I have to go along with it.

"It would be a shame. It doesn't have to be that way, though. Every donation helps better her chances. Our male tribute this year is really strong as well. His name is…"

"You know, you aren't too bad yourself," Abuter says, interrupting me. It's then I notice he's scanning me up and down. Gross. "Care for a drink?" he asks, flashing a scary smile.

"N-No thank you," I stutter.

"Aw, that's too bad. I have all this money that you could use for your little tribute, but I guess I'll just have to take it elsewhere," he says. He's frowning, but there's a malicious smile in his eyes.

Why does he have to do this? He's pulling money out of his pocket now, effectively tempting me. That could be Michael and Cyana's lives in his hand. It would be selfish of me to turn it down.

"How much will just one drink get me?" I ask meekly.

"Some. You'll have to do better than that if you really want my money. I'm willing to bet that it'll only take three drinks for me to get you in bed."

That mortifies me. Talking to this man was a horrible decision. What was I thinking, approaching a creepy older man anyways? I should have known he was a pervert.

"I-I-I'm sorry. I can't."

"Too bad. How unfortunate for that pretty little girl. Her mentor has one job to do and she can't even pull through for her, even when it's her life on the line." He pulls more money out of his wallet and starts fanning himself with it.

I'm getting really fed up with Abuter Cario and his mind games. I've survived through too much to let myself be taken advantage of now. I swallow hard and muster up some courage to respond confidently.

"My offer stands at one drink. You can take it or leave it."

Abuter is the one who looks unsure now. Finally, he says, "Fine, we'll start with one and see how it goes."

I'm trying to be careful to not let my confidence slip, but it's hard to keep my hands from trembling slightly as I follow him through the half-illuminated room to the bar. I refrain from talking as I sip at my drink because he's not basing his decision to sponsor off of whatever I say.

"You're going to have to try better than that. Could I at least get a smile?" he says.

I give him something that's less a smile and more a grimace. Since when was it my job to cater to these people like this? I thought that staying out of the spotlight and not upsetting the Capitol at least meant that I could be myself.

"So how's victor life?" Abuter asks. Casual conversation feels so out of place right now.

"Okay," I practically spit out.

"Wow, someone's tense. Can we get another drink over here?" He calls out to the nearest avox.

"I said one drink!" I exclaim.

"Your attitude ruined it for you. Don't worry, I'm giving you another chance. I might even pay double if you act friendly."

I take a deep breath and try to act in a way that he will find acceptable. Instead of making me confident and giddy like last time, the alcohol really only makes me feel worse. Abuter drinks much faster than me. His words begin slurring after a while and he doesn't seem to realize how much I don't want to be here.

I'm doing my best to block him out when he takes me by surprise by leaning over and forcing his lips against mine. I start flailing immediately because this isn't right and he needs to stop right now, but he's surprisingly strong, and the kiss doesn't end until he ends it. I stare at him with my mouth open in disbelief. I don't know whether I want to scream, cry, or slap him.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he says before I can unfreeze from my shock. He grips my arm tightly and slides his around my waist. Within seconds, he's pulling me to the door. No. No. No.

"Let go of me!" I screech, not caring if I make a scene. He makes no effort to listen to me. Left with no other choice, I reach under the sleeve of his suit and dig my nails into his skin as hard as possible.

He jumps back and cries out in pain. When he rolls his sleeve back, I see I dug out a jewel encrusted in his skin. It's a bloody mess now. The sight of it is something that might have made me cringe a long time ago, but that was before. Before I went in the arena and saw wounds far worse than this. Before I had to worry about manipulative fifty year old men trying to take advantage of me.

He clutches his arm and throws a string of expletives at me, which surprisingly doesn't faze me. It's the next thing he says that makes me regret everything.

"I don't know who you think you're dealing with! You're not getting any money out or me, or anyone else once I tell them about you!"

I might have just blown my chance at getting any sponsors. Even worse, what if this little incident gets back to the president? That can't happen. I immediately shift into suck-up mode.

"I'm so, so sorry, sir! It's just, um, getting grabbed suddenly made me flashback to the arena. I-I didn't know what I was doing. I don't expect you to pay me, but please don't tell anyone." I add tears for effect, which isn't hard at all because I already feel like crying. I hope with every fiber of my being that he's buying my story.

"Is that true?" he asks gruffly, narrowing his eyes.

"I promise," I lie.

Abuter frowns at his still-bleeding arm and looks back at me. "Fine, I believe you. You could have given me a little warning, little lady. You're lucky you're pretty. Why don't we pick this up where we left off?"

I can almost feel the color draining from my face. "S-sir, I don't know if that's a good idea. The flashbacks make me sick to my stomach. I'm really nauseous right now, and any touch might make me freak out again. I w-wish I could control it," I say, my eyes drifting away automatically as they do every time I tell a lie.

He glares at me and groans. "What a waste of time. Some of you victors really are train-wrecks of people, you know."

"I know," I say sadly, because his words are true.

"Whatever. Bye," he says angrily as he makes his exit.

What a disaster. I rub my eyes as I walk back to the elevator to return to my floor, but I can't stop the "fake" tears from coming. Eventually, I feel sobs starting to rise from the back of my throat.

I've never been a fan of crying. Even before the Games, I never wanted to cry in front of anyone. Since my emotional breakdown during the Hunger Games, I've hated it even more. There have only been maybe two times over the past year when I submitted to the tears and let myself cry it out.

So much for being strong. I can't go back up to the room like this, so I distance myself as far away from others as possible and try to get myself under control.

_There's no need to worry about it. That world is a place far away from here._

I don't know where the words come from or why they suddenly pop into my mind, but I can't help but find them familiar, like they came from a distant memory. Somehow, I know they were spoken about the Hunger Games. They couldn't be less true now. This is my world. All these months, I've been trying to find the balance between remembering and moving on, and I thought I was making good progress to being happy again. Why do I even try so hard to see the brighter side of life when I know it will never help me escape?

I finally get my eyes dry enough to leave this awful place. It's cowardly, I know, but I can already say for sure that I'm not coming down here alone again, at least not this year. You'd think I'd be able to take care of myself…

I avoid eye contact with Isidora when I enter the room. "How did it go?" she asks.

"You were getting sponsors?" another voice asks. Cyana.

"That was the plan," I say.

"What do you mean? Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?" Isidora questions. She walks closer to me but I just look away.

"I'm fine. I just need sleep. Cyana, you should probably go to bed, too. You have training bright and early." I walk down the hallway before they can ask me anything else.

I brush my teeth furiously, trying to remove all traces of the kiss. As I lay in my bed sniffling, the words from earlier keep replaying in my brain. I just can't remember where I heard them.

_There's no need to worry about it. That world is a place far away from here._

I wish that were true.


	22. Advice

**A/N: Eh, I don't really like this chapter. I was tempted to rewrite it but I'm too lazy for that. I have more ideas for the next one and I'll get to writing that as soon as I can sort through all this post-hurricane chaos. Isaac hit my area pretty hard. Thanks again to all my loyal reviewers!**

* * *

It is a rainy summer night and I am five years old. A round of booming thunder slightly shakes the frame of the wooden house, causing me to pull the covers up over my face in fear. I lower them in a second, though, because just this morning, I insisted that people stop calling me a little girl. The only way they will realize I need to be taken seriously is if I act brave.

My little cousin, Kai, is sleeping at the foot of the bed, clutching a toy. He's just three; a baby in my eyes. I step out of bed and fold the covers back until they cover him. Then I grab my favorite baby doll and start shifting through the closet to find something to use as a blanket. One of my mother's gowns catches my eye. I stand on tip-toe and reach my tiny arms up until I pull it from the hanger. Instead of wrapping it around my doll, I try it on and giggle when I see it leaves a long train of fabric behind me. I'm sure my parents will think it's funny, too. I go to show them.

As I approach the door, I hear the sound of the television on in the living area. Sure enough, they are all there watching something. My parents and uncle have their eyes trained on the screen. The only reason my aunt doesn't is because she is cooing something to her newborn daughter, Marilla.

"Momma, look what I'm wearing!" I announce proudly.

Her reaction isn't what I was expecting. "Oh! Mags, baby, go back to bed!" she says in alarm.

I frown because she didn't even comment on the fact that I'm wearing her clothes. "What are you watchin' on T.V.?" I ask, since they all seem to be concerned about it.

"It's just for us grown-ups to watch. You're too little, sweetie. Go on back to bed," she replies.

"I'm not too little!" I exclaim, turning my attention to the screen. It's dark, and I can just make out three shadowy figures running among trees. Two are chasing the other. It must be some game of tag.

The camera zooms in on the face of the girl who is being chased. Her eyes are wide and she is panting heavily. The shadows behind her are getting closer, closer, closer…

My father's hands close around my eyes at that second, but he can't block the piercing scream that fills the living room. I'm not sure what happened. What I do know is that girl is in pain, and that is enough to make me start crying as my dad hoists me onto his shoulder. Baby Marilla starts crying at the noise as well. Soon, the four adults are in a panic trying to get us under control.

"Daddy, is that girl okay?" I ask as he carries me back to the bed.

"She is now," he reassures me.

"But why did they want to hurt her?" I ask.

My father's eyes look pained. "There's no need to worry about it. That world is a place far away from here," he tells me.

That makes me feel a little better. Still, as he turns out the lights and I am left to sleep, I can't stop thinking about it. My brain has just made the connection that what was on television was the "Game" that everyone was crying over a few weeks ago in Town Square. That didn't look like a game to me.

My eyes flutter open, and I am left staring at not the wooden ceiling of my childhood home, but the pristine walls of the Capitol. It's strange that my subconscious greeted me with a forgotten memory instead of a nightmare. That's okay though, because I have enough of the nightmares when I'm awake. At least now I remember where those words that are no longer true came from. It's funny how something that was once a world away now controls my life.

Over breakfast, I'm paranoid that Isidora or Cyana will bring up what happened last night. That's something I'm not willing to talk about right now.

If Isidora has any recollection of last night, she doesn't show it. Cyana, on the other hand, keeps throwing me worried glances, but she doesn't say anything for a while. After we've finished our beignets and syrupy pancakes, she finally speaks up.

"Hey, Mags, can we talk?" she asks shyly.

"Yeah, we need to touch base again on training strategy," I say. We walk to her bedroom and sit on the bed. "Tell me about the other tributes. I'll see if I can help you decide on alliances," I begin.

"Um, before that, I wanted to ask if you're okay. What were you upset about last night?" she says.

"I'm fine. I just learned I'm not great at getting sponsors," I say, wincing at the memory. Then I realize that isn't the best thing to say to a tribute. "Oh, but don't worry. You'll have sponsors. I'll make sure you do," I add.

She thinks about that for a second, but she still looks concerned. "What do you have to do to get sponsors? There must be something bad about it for them to make you cry."

I shake my head. "You have enough to worry about. I'll be okay. It just could've ended really badly last night. All that matters is that it didn't."

I take a minute to consider just how badly it could have ended. I see two possible roads it might have gone down. Obviously, I could have been raped, but that's actually the lesser horror of the two. I would have been the only one affected by that, and I would have gotten a ton of sponsor money, not that that makes it okay. What would have been even worse is if word that I attacked a Capitol citizen got back to the President. Who knows what kinds of accidents might have affected my innocent family. Really, I'm lucky things worked out the way they did.

"Are you sure?" Cyana asks.

"Positive," I reassure her. "Now tell me, what are the tributes like?"

We talk about that for a while, and I gather that there are two alliances forming. One is comprised mainly of volunteers and the other is more of an underdog team. She tells me the boy from Twelve, Nasser, is being recruited by the careers, but he seems like he's better friends with the boy from Nine, who is leading the underdogs. The closest Cyana has come to making friends with is a girl from Eight, who also seems to be in the underdog alliance. The names spin around in my head and it gets a little difficult to keep up since I don't know any of these kids. I make Cyana promise to keep me posted day by day so I can help her more.

When we get around to discussing weapons, Cyana tells me she's been working with the bow and arrow.

"Archery? Are you sure?" I ask. Bows are a more uncommon weapon in the Games, so there's no guarantee they will be available.

"If it comes down to it and I have to kill, I would rather it be from a distance," Cyana says.

"Oh. That makes sense," I say, but I'm still not convinced. "Are you good at it?"

She shrugs. "I guess I'm getting better. I can at least hit the target now."

"Okay. Just make sure to work with other weapons as a back-up. Oh, and talk to the girl from Eight some more. See what you can find out about her alliance." I glance at the clock. "It's time for you to go. We'll talk later," I say, patting her shoulder before I get up.

I volunteer to drop off Mike and Cy at training today. When I get back, Alec is on the sofa. "Hey," I say, leaning over the back of the couch.

"Hey. Do you want to try getting sponsors again?" he asks.

I stiffen, but agree. We both get cleaned up and ready to go down to the Sponsorship Hall. When we are in the elevator, he casually says, "So Isidora told me you went down there last night."

Great. "Yeah, I did."

"You know you could have just waited for me, right? What happened, anyway?"

I look down at the red carpet. "It doesn't matter now," I say.

"So you're really not going to tell me." His voice is level and cool, but I can tell by his tone that he's annoyed. "I thought we weren't keeping secrets."

"It's not that I don't trust you or think you wouldn't understand. What I'm saying is it's over and I would rather just forget-" I am cut off by the elevator stopping for an escort to enter. We ride the rest of the way in an awkward silence. As soon as we exit and the escort walks away, Alec suggests we go outside.

"Alec, if we're just going to argue, I don't want to," I say stubbornly.

"Then I guess you're okay with splitting up now and meeting back here in two hours?" he asks.

"No, I'd rather us go together," I say instinctively because I'm too scared to deal with these people on my own.

"I know you're scared to go alone for a reason, Mags. Why don't we just talk about it? It's not like I'm going to tell anyone."

I guess I am being a little ridiculous. If there's anyone I can talk about this with, it's Alec.

"Fine, I'll tell you. It's just that, looking back, it's embarrassing that I didn't see it coming," I admit.

"Let's go outside," Alec says again. He guides us through the crowd of people and we exit through a tall glass door. Once outside, I have to shield my eyes from the bright light.

For all the time I've spent in the Capitol, I've never really gotten the chance to sit back and enjoy my surroundings. I'm so used to being herded back and forth between rooms and parties. Out here on the street, I realize for the first time that I'm not confined to the training center like the tributes. If I wanted to, I could walk off into the distance right now and not come back. Sure, I wouldn't last long and they'd probably declare a national emergency for a missing victor, but even just knowing I have the option makes me feel a tiny bit less restrained.

We sit down on a wrought-iron bench. "It's nice out here," I say as I pull on a strand of my hair that is blowing in the wind. The sunlight hits it in a way that it shines golden, making it look much lighter than it really is.

"Yeah, it is. And we don't have to worry about anyone listening out here," Alec says.

Now is as good a time as ever to start. "Well, last night when I was looking for someone to approach, I saw an older man and I had a gut feeling that he would be a good choice. Now I realize I would have been better off working with the women, but, I don't know, I just wasn't thinking. Anyway, I started telling him about Cyana and realized he was a pervert. I should have just left then."

Alec's mouth pulls into a tight line, and I'm sure he knows where this is headed. "Go on," he says.

"He was really manipulative," I begin. "He kept flashing his money and made me feel guilty about not doing all I can to help my tributes. I finally agreed to one drink…He ended up kissing me and forcefully pulling me to the door. I scratched his arm until it bled to make him let go."

I pause to take a breath and gauge Alec's reaction. Anger, shock, and concern flash over his face. Mostly anger. Before he can say anything, I continue the story. "Wait, I'm not done. He said he would tell everyone about what I did. Then I got worried it would get back to the president so I made up some story to convince him I didn't mean to attack him. I thought it was pretty bad but he bought it. So everything's okay and I just want to forget how wrong it could have gone." My voice is a little shaky by the end, so I take a few deep breaths to calm myself.

"Mags…" Alec stands up, apparently too upset to sit. "I should have gone with you. You shouldn't have to deal with any of this! If I ever see that man…"

"No, it's over. I'm fine," I interrupt him. "And it isn't your fault that it happened. I'm the one who was naïve enough to approach him."

"You can't give people around here the benefit of the doubt. They'll take advantage of anyone who does. It makes you an easy target," Alec sighs.

"Yeah, I learned my lesson," I reply. Then I look at the sidewalk and frown. "The worst part was that I tried to fight back. It's too risky to do something so reckless. It worked out okay, but it would've been safer to just let him do whatever he wanted to me."

"Don't say that! It's not okay. I'll just handle the sponsors if it makes you feel better."

I shake my head. "I'm not going to make you do all the work. We'll work better as a team," I say as I reach out and grab his hand, intertwining my fingers with his. "I'll keep the freaky women in check and you'll chase away the old creeps, right?" I give him a small smile.

My last sentence seems to improve his mood a little. "Right," he says finally. That relieves me, but there's one more thing I need to ask. "Alec…have you ever, um, been in a situation where you had to…where they forced you to sleep with them?"

He seems reluctant to answer. "All I'm really required to do is be in the promos and keep people excited about the Games. That usually involves flirting with women to keep them happy but I don't have to go any further than that. Some people are really persistent though, and I'm not exactly allowed to upset them by denying them. You already figured out how much trouble it can cause when they start throwing around threats. Usually I can talk my way out of it, but, yeah, it's happened a few times." I can tell by the way he says the words that he's ashamed.

"I'm really sorry." I wish there was something better I could say or something I could do to help, but I can't think of anything.

"Not your fault," he says.

"Doesn't matter. I'm still sorry," I tell him. "It's a good thing they don't make you do that all the time," I add as an afterthought.

"Yeah, it sounds like something they would do. I'm not going to be the one to give them that idea. Anyway, try to avoid those situations. A lot of the men here are really dangerous."

"Okay," I agree, though I'm not convinced I won't be put in that position eventually. I'm not trying to sound sexist, but I know that just being a woman, and a young one at that, puts me at a higher risk of something happening.

"I'll try to stay away from them because I've never…I mean, for my first time, I wouldn't want…" I trail off out of embarrassment because I was raised to be modest about things like this.

My parents have always advocated saving yourself until marriage. Now I can't help but feel like I'm standing under a ticking time bomb. Eventually, I'll have to approach sponsors on my own, including men. If I ever get in a situation where I can't get out of it, do I really want to give up that experience to the Capitol? I might as well just not wait any longer. I want my first time to be special. I want to feel loved, not used.

I glance sideways at Alec then quickly look away. I can already feel the warmth rushing to my cheeks and I am so thankful in this moment that my thoughts are private. Wait, what am I doing? My tribute is going into the arena in three days, and I'm worrying about sex, of all things. I really need to get my priorities in order.

All of these things fly through my mind so fast that I forget Alec is still waiting for me to finish my last statement. "Never mind, let's go get sponsors. Mike and Cyana will be out of training before we even start at this rate," I say quickly.

We make decent progress with the sponsors. It isn't exactly what I would call a pleasant experience, but, compared to last night, it's fine. We finish at almost the exact time training ends. The tributes have just gotten back when we walk in. Within a few minutes, Isidora and Alec leave again to go run their respective errands and I am left with Michael and Cyana.

I grab a box of sugar cubes and plop a few into my mouth before making my way over to the sofa. "Do you two know what you're doing for the private sessions?" I ask. Getting distracted earlier today made me feel like I need to step up my mentoring game.

"Yeah, I'm going to do weight-lighting and use a few weapons. I've had it planned out for the past three years," Michael answers.

"That's good," I say in response. "What about you, Cy?"

"Do you think it's better for me to use weapons or just do survival skills?' Cyana asks.

Mike answers before I can. "Weapons, of course! They aren't going to care about anything else."

"Weapons will probably get you a higher score, but only if you use them well," I clarify. "Do whatever you're best at. Just make it memorable; you don't want to bore them."

"Yeah, but if she doesn't use any weapons, how will the gamemakers know to put it in the Cornucopia?" Mike asks.

"I don't want you going near the Cornucopia," I tell Cyana. "I'll try to send you a weapon early on, before things get expensive. If you really want a bow, you could always make one in the arena, too."

"I guess I can make one out of rope and a stick?" Her voice rises at the end and makes it a question.

I wish I had access to sticks and vines right now to help her create a make-shift bow. I'll just have to work with what I have. "Follow me. We'll be back in a minute, Mike," I say, gesturing for Cyana to come down the hallway.

We walk into my room and I open the closet. "Resourcefulness 101: Use whatever is available," I tell her, pulling out some wire hangers. I snap them in half and twist them together until they somewhat resemble the arch of a bow. "Let's say these are sticks. They aren't going to bend like this, but you'll want to find one strong, yet flexible enough to curve."

"Okay. Next we should use rope, unless I don't have any in the arena. I guess a vine would work," Cyana notes.

"Right. I actually do have some rope in here. Let's use something else, though. Any ideas?"

Her eyes scan around the room a few times. Then she reaches up and pulls her thick hair out of it's ponytail. It takes a minute to stretch it out enough, but we are able to fit it over the frame we have created. Cyana reinforces it with some knots she has learned in training.

"Okay, for the arrows, we're just going to use pencils. In the arena, you could sharpen slabs of wood with a knife. It's not too difficult. I'm not going to tear any wood off the furniture right now for Isidora's sake."

Cyana laughs. "She would kill us. She'll probably be mad that we destroyed the hangers."

I wave my hand dismissively. "Nah, she'll be upset with me for like two minutes. I can live with that. C'mon, let's test go test out the bow," I say, ready to return to the living room. I stop after a step and turn back to my tribute. "Oh, did you find out anything more about alliances? It's probably better we talk without Mike around since you aren't working together."

"I think I'm in with the boys from Nine and Twelve and both tributes from Eight," she announces proudly. "I trust them. We've all decided to only kill if we have to, until the numbers get lower. Then we'll have to split up. I trust Tailor the most. That's the girl from Eight. She reminds me of Lea."

"I'm glad you found an alliance. Just remember you can never be too careful. What I did last year was make sure I always made myself useful. As long as you're needed, you're safe," I say.

I really am glad that Cy won't be on her own. I would just feel more comfortable if she were in a group of two or three instead of five. There's no doubt that Michael's alliance will hunt them down first, and that's what really has me worried.

Mike is still sitting on the sofa when we return. He looks at us quizzically when he sees the hanger-rubber band bow. "How is that going to help anything?" he asks.

"I was showing Cyana that she can make do with whatever she can find. It applies to a lot more than just bows. You can make weapons or fishhooks or nets. Anything, really," I answer.

"Where should I shoot?" Cy asks, pencils in hand.

"Aim for that dish," I tell her. Across the room over in the kitchen, one of many glass dishes is sitting on the counter. I don't expect the homemade bow to shoot that far anyway.

"It feels weird compared to the real bows," she says. She pulls back on the band and releases the pencil across the room. It goes much farther than I expected and actually hits the plate. Not in the center, but close enough. The plate falls over and shatters on the ground.

"Whoa," both tributes say. "Let me try that!" Mike exclaims.

"Wait, let's not break anymore dishes!" Despite what I said about Isidora earlier, I actually am a little scared of her reaction. I sweep the glass into a garbage can and dig around the cabinets until I find an identical glass plate. I set it where the other one was.

We take a few more practice shots on less fragile items. It is a little silly, but I think I did get my point across that you don't have to rely on what's at the cornucopia to survive. Cyana is actually better with the bow than I expected. I only tried archery briefly last year, and it took all of ten minutes for me to realize there was no way I was ever going to hit the target. Just because it wasn't right for me doesn't mean it isn't for her.

I give out bits and pieces of advice throughout the night. I make a point to encourage them to revisit edible plants before their private sessions because one of the sponsors this morning kept throwing the word "poison" into strange parts of the conversation. I also remind Mike not to let his guard down too much when it's time to sleep. I've seen too many people get their throats slit in the dark hours of the night. I was almost one of them.

"Where's my mentor, anyway?" Michael questions. "I thought this was supposed to be his job."

"It's not Alec's fault. He's busy with victor's stuff," I explain.

"Why don't you have to leave?" Cyana asks. I haven't even known her for a week, but I can already recognize the look she gets in her big gray eyes when she's trying to understand something.

I can't give her a full answer on that, so I have to settle for something else. "Well I can't leave you two alone," I say.

Mike runs a hand through his spiky blond hair. "It's kind of insulting that we need to be watched, especially when I'm the same age as you."

"I don't know. I guess all tributes are on suicide watch," I comment. I look over to Cyana, who still seems to be pondering over something.

"I'm tired. I think I'll turn in early," she says softly.

"Don't you want dinner?" I ask.

"I'm too full from lunch," she says. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I say. When she's in her room and out of earshot, I turn to Michael. "Look, I know you're free to make whatever decisions you want in these Games, and I'm not going to try to change your mind. All I'm asking is that you don't kill her. That would be the most disrespectful thing you could do to District Four."

"I never said I was going to hurt her!" Mike says defensively.

"I know, I know. That doesn't mean your alliance won't hunt her down. Please, just don't hurt her," I say, my voice changing from strong to pleading.

"I won't," he says, and that promise will have to be enough for me to hold onto.

Still, the thought of Michael and Cyana being on opposing alliances has me worried through the next few days. There's just so many ways it could go wrong. Truthfully, nothing can really go right when it comes to the Hunger Games. I don't know whether I should tell Cyana to align with just the girl from Eight that she trusts so much, or if it's better to have stronger tributes to protect her. It will be hard to get a good grasp of the other tribute's personalities before the interviews.

The next night, I curl up under Alec's arm on the living room sofa as we all watch the scoring results. Both tributes from One and the girl from Two fall in the eight to ten range, with the boy from Two appearing as the weak link with a score of seven. Mike gets a nine and the number six appears under Cy's picture. Most of the other tributes have average scores.

I'm a little surprised when the volunteer from Nine only gets a six. I thought he would have done better, being the leader of an alliance and all. It just goes to show that I don't know what's going on this year. Nasser from Twelve gets a nine. Very briefly, I wonder if Twelve might have it's first victor this year, but I banish the thought a second later.

I have to keep faith in District Four for Cyana and Mike's sake, even if the odds are not in our favor.

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	23. Watch

**A/N: Hey, y'all! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Oh, and thanks for being patient with me. Enjoy the chapter and please review :)**

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"How do you walk in those?" Cyana asks me as I approach her. I glance down at my golden five-inch heels. I remember how impossible they were to manage last year, but somewhere along the line, I became a pro at walking in them.

"I've had a lot of practice," I answer her. "Do you know how much time we have before the interviews start?"

This is the first time I've seen Cyana all day. The prep team took her in before breakfast and worked on her all day. I thought I was off the hook with prep work until an unfamiliar trio of Capitol citizens showed up at my door to do my hair and makeup. Lilith sent a dress along with them, which I am wearing now. It looks a lot like a shorter version of the white magnolia dress I wore for the Games Highlights.

Still, I'm grateful my outfit falls down to a few inches above my knees, unlike Cyana's. Her dress just barely brushes the top of her thighs. I had a feeling Lilith would make her dress too revealing, so I had to rethink the interview angle I was going with.

At first, I thought sweet and likable would be the best fit. I know she's too shy to pull off the sexy persona Lilith tried to make for her. After an hour or two of discussion yesterday, Cy and I eventually decided on mysterious. It doesn't matter that she doesn't really have a master plan; as long as people think she does, they'll be interested.

"They told me I have to line up in ten minutes. That was a few minutes ago," she tells me. Her voice shakes ever so slightly.

"Don't be nervous. Nathaniel will help you answer the questions. It's his job to make you look good," I say, trying to comfort her.

"I don't know if I'm more nervous about the questions, walking in these shoes, or having a wardrobe malfunction," she admits. She tugs at the bottom of the dress, trying to make it longer. She doesn't make much progress before she has to pull at the top of the dress to keep it from falling too low.

"Leave it be, Cy. Just remember to cross your legs and you'll be fine, I promise. It really is a pretty dress you're wearing." I see Lilith likes dressing people up based on their names. She couldn't resist putting Cyana in a sparkly cyan-blue outfit.

"Thanks," she says with a sigh. "I just wish it were a little longer like your's."

"Consider it a compliment from Lilith. She put you in this dress because she knows you can pull it off. She told me she didn't dress me that way because I don't have enough shape," I say. I'm not sure if that will make her feel any better, but it's worth a shot.

"Well that's not very nice of her," she says, looking down. Guess not.

An voice comes over the intercom to tell the tributes to line up backstage and the victors to take their seats in the audience. "Remember, mysterious," I tell Cy one last time before I am forced to leave.

This year, the previous victors take up the entire first row. The Capitol people must think it's cute to put us in numerical order because my reserved seat is on the edge. Next to me is the boy from Three who won two years ago. I lean forward in my seat and smile at Alec a few seats to my left. I can see Kallan too, near the middle of the row.

Music starts playing and Nathaniel Flickerman rises out from center stage as usual. This year, his skin is dyed a lilac purple. People scream with admiration and I clap out of politeness. Just then, a second chair rises in stage and the audience gasps in confusion. Before I have time to ponder what the empty host chair is for, a woman walks across stage with something very small in her arms.

She sets it down on the chair, and I see it's a baby. Oh, it makes sense now. Nathaniel was expecting a child last I heard. Nathaniel introduces the infant as his son, Caesar, which gains a collective "awww" from the audience. They didn't do any alterations to the baby's skin, but that didn't stop them from dying the child's little tuft of hair purple to match his father. Capitol people and their crazy fashions…

They obsess over Caesar for another few minutes, then the tributes walk in a line out onto the stage and sit on the sofa. I study the faces I haven't been able to see since the reaping, trying to connect them with the information Michael and Cyana have given me.

The first girl up is Tiffany from One, who Mike with be allying with. She mostly goes on about how she promised her boyfriend she would make it back to him. She is followed by her male district partner, Orion. He's a little rude to Nathaniel, but he definitely comes off as strong and determined.

Alaina from Two is up on the stage now, and I can't help but think she looks like Cyana. She's dressed in a similar low-cut dress, but unlike my tribute, she sticks with fierce and sexy. Craig from District Two once again makes himself look like the odd man out in the career alliance. He isn't as physically strong or threatening as the others, and he wasn't a volunteer. Mike told me that the main reason he is in the group is because Alaina wouldn't leave him behind.

As usual, District Three is nothing too memorable because I am anticipating Four. I tense up when Cyana's name is called. Despite her previous worries, she does not trip as she walks across the stage. She takes a seat and her eyes scan the crowd nervously. She regains her smile a second later. I figure she just remembered Isidora's order to look happy.

"Cyana Wilson, may I say you look lovely tonight. I bet you've enjoyed having Lilith as your stylist, yes?" Nathaniel asks, leaning towards her.

"Yes," she replies in a tiny voice. 'Louder,' I mouth to her when her eyes meet mine.

"Aw, you don't have to be afraid to speak up! We won't bite! Now tell me, do you have any special plans for the Games?" he questions.

"I do," Cyana says a little more confidently.

"And what would that be?"

"If I told you, it would ruin the surprise," Cy answers with a smile. She looks out to me again and I give her a subtle thumbs-up.

"Now that's what I like to hear! Entertainment at it's finest!" Nathaniel laughs. "Cyana, your mentor is Mags Brine, last year's victor. How is it working with her?" I blink in surprise when the camera pans over to me. I'm still not a fan of the spotlight, but I am able to give an embarrassed smile and a little wave before it turns back to the stage.

"Mags is really nice. She's like an older sister," Cyana answers, and I feel my face pull into a genuine smile.

"That's good to hear. I have another question for you. Is there anyone special back home? A young man, perhaps?" Nathaniel prods.

Cyana becomes a little flustered then. "Um, no, not special like that," she says, her voice projection fading. Nathaniel is about to follow up with another question, but she speaks up again to change the subject away from anything embarrassing. "I have enough people worth fighting for, like my family and my best friend, Lea," she says shyly.

The buzzer rings as she finishes the statement. Nathaniel thanks her and calls Michael up to center stage.

"Ah, Michael Harbor, nice to meet you. I've heard you're among the top five in the polls of who will win," Nathaniel says as he shakes Mike's hand.

"Really? I'm glad to hear it, Nathaniel. I've worked really hard for this," Mike says. He looks pretty relaxed.

"I'm sure you have," Nathaniel responds. He doesn't ask about any training, probably because you technically aren't supposed to prepare for the Games. "What do you think your family is saying about you back at home?"

"Pretty much everyone has been really supportive of me, so I'm sure they're cheering me on. The only one who wasn't happy about me volunteering is my mom," he answers. He still sounds confident, but I can tell he feels hurt when he mentions his mother. "But I think she'll change her mind when I win and bring honor to District Four," he finishes. The crowd cheers at his answer.

I know a confident answer is good. I just can't help but feel bad about his mother back in Four. I know she'll be heartbroken if Mike dies, and the thing is, Mike truly believes he will win. I have to say, it reminds me of someone I used to know.

Mike does a good job with the rest of his interview, and Nathaniel continues onto the other districts. Most are fairly basic. There's all the usual questions about the Capitol and training scores. Also, there always has to be at least one teasing question on whether tributes have any feelings for their mentors of the opposite gender. It always embarrasses them, just like it did me, and the crowd eats it up.

I pay special attention to the Eight tributes, who are part of the underdog alliance. They seem like nice kids, not exactly victor material, but nice nonetheless. When the girl says she found people she can trust, I know Cyana is included.

The boy from Nine, Barley, gets plenty of attention.

"I don't believe we have ever seen a volunteer from an outlying district. Can you tell us your motives behind that?" Nathaniel asks. I'm curious to hear his answer myself.

"I know the boy who was picked, and I know his family needs him a lot more than people need me. It wouldn't have been right for him to die here," Barley answers.

So he didn't volunteer just for a chance at fame. He did it to save someone's life. That has to be the definition of selfless. He has my respect.

Nathaniel looks unsure for once. "That truly is noble, but how can you be sure you will do better? We've heard plenty of rumors about alliances that may or not be forming. We were all eager to see your score…"

"I know, I only got a six," Barley responds. "I never said I was the strongest. I just believe in doin' what's right. I think there are plenty of underdogs here that deserve a shot."

Yes, Barley from Nine is definitely one to watch. I pay attention to Nasser's interview as well. When Nathaniel comments that District Twelve rarely does good in training, he defends his home.

"Life isn't easy in Twelve. You can't expect us to worry about the Games when we're spending all our time just trying to get by. I never planned on getting picked, but I'm going to do my best. It's time for Twelve to have some luck," he answers, closing out the show with a bang.

I'm hoping the underdog alliance does well. I feel guilty about wishing for that when one of Four's tributes is in an opposing alliance, though.

"Lucky thirteen! I'm so excited!" Isidora squeals when our team is back on the fourth floor. The time has come to say our goodbyes.

I hug Michael and wish him luck. When I go to hug Cyana, I feel the crushing weight of knowing I might never see her again. It's not a good feeling. Everyone always wants the chance to say goodbye, but when it comes, it hits you that you will never be able to say everything you want. It will always seem hollow.

"Please, stay safe. Remember what you're fighting for," I say sadly as we embrace.

"I'll do my best," she says.

The tributes are sent to their rooms. "You two should get some rest. You won't have much time to sleep these next few weeks. I on the other hand, get to stay up and watch pre-Games talk shows!," Isidora tells Alec and I.

We look at each other and shrug at Isidora's excitement. We both go to Alec's room because we're way too anxious about tomorrow to sleep any time soon.

"Do you think there's anything else I should have told Cyana? I keep feeling like I forgot something," I say as I lay down on Alec's bed and look up at the ceiling.

"You can only do so much, " he says. "Kallan's lucky he doesn't have to deal with any of this right now."

"Yeah, but he had to deal with it for seven years. He deserves a break," I remind him.

"That's true," he says.

I can feel knots pulling at my stomach already. I'm worried sick about the tributes, and I know all to well what they are going through tonight. Their own personal horror movie begins tomorrow. Are they sleeping right now? I doubt it. If they feel anything like I did last year, they're being kept awake by paralyzing fear.

I think back to the little panic attack I had that night. The chill in my bones ran so deep that I could feel it in the core of my being. I couldn't stop shaking and I felt like I would die right then and there. Later that night, I woke up screaming and Alec found me.

"I never did thank you for what you did last year," I say suddenly. "It really did help to remember what I needed to fight for. I tried to do the same thing with Cy."

It takes Alec a second to get on the same page as me, but then his green eyes flash with recognition. "Oh, no problem. It feels good knowing you can have that future now, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, maybe," I say, my eyes drifting to the ground. The future family I had envisioned isn't exactly compatible with the life I am living now. Their lives would always be at risk.

"What do you mean?" Alec asks. I shake my head and say it's nothing, but I look pointedly around the room so he will know it isn't something to discuss here. He looks like he understands.

"I guess I should go back to my room and try to sleep," I say reluctantly.

"You can stay here if you want, as long as you don't kick me," he says with a small chuckle at the end.

"Kick you? What?" I ask in confusion.

"You kick in your sleep," he explains.

"I think I would know if I did that," I say.

"Mags, you've fallen asleep by me before. You kick in your sleep," Alec says smugly.

I can't think of any way to deny that because I probably do kick when I have nightmares. "Well at least I don't snore like some people here," I say, folding my arms.

"I snore?" he asks skeptically.

"Yep. Loud, too," I smile. Loud is an exaggeration, but he doesn't have to know that.

After I've changed into a t-shirt and pajama pants and we are in bed, my mind immediately drifts back to worrying about the tributes. At least the kicking and snoring thing got it off my mind for a few minutes. I don't think I'll have much luck with distracting my thoughts tonight.

I don't really do much to support my case that I'm not a restless sleeper. Even as I'm just trying to drift to sleep, I toss and turn enough to have to apologize to Alec several times. After a few hours, though, I hear a soft snoring next to me.

I'm not sure when exactly I fall asleep, but I know I do because I have the feeling I just went through a nightmare the next time I open my eyes. Dawn's light illuminates the blinds. That makes me shiver since I know that Mike and Cyana are being lead to the hovercraft right about now. Mentors don't be ready until just before ten because our work station is on the top floor of the training center. Who knows how far away the arena is this year.

I bury my face into Alec's arm and start imagining the different types of horrors that might await in the arena. Alec doesn't wake up until just after eight. He looks around groggily.

"Slept okay?" I ask, my voice muffled by his arm. I would make a joke about him snoring if I didn't feel so sad.

"It was okay, besides the bruises I probably have from you elbowing and kicking me all night," he says. I don't respond. "It was a joke…Mags?" he asks, brushing the hair out my face.

"I know. I'm just really stressed out," I say.

"All we can do is try to help them. Come on, we should go eat breakfast," he says.

Somehow, I manage to pull myself out of bed and go eat breakfast. I try to block out Isidora's commentary because I'm really not in the mood. I can tell I'm doing a good job of ignoring her when Alec snaps at her for saying something that I didn't catch at all. I'm sure I'm better off not knowing.

Alec and I make take the elevator to the top floor twenty minutes before the Games are due to start. I look around in surprise when the doors open. In all my years, I've never seen a place that looks so high tech. The room is filled to the brim with computers and screens and buttons. Everything is a shiny silver chrome.

There are twelve different spaces around the room, separated by short, thin, barrier walls. The walls don't block you from seeing others; they are just a way to designate different work stations. There are two chairs per station. Twenty-four mentor seats for twenty-four tributes. Of course, most of them are empty.

Mounted on the back wall are two giant screens. Like the screens at the workspaces, they are blank at the moment.

"What are those for?" I ask.

"The top one is the map of the arena. We can't see it until the tributes are in. The bottom is the feed they are showing in all of Panem."

"Oh," is all I say. I walk over to the District Four workspace and examine the screens. It's all a little overwhelming. From what I can tell, there's different buttons I can press to get views of different areas of the arena. There are screens for our tributes specifically. Then there's a separate monitor where you can check how much sponsor money is available and purchase gifts to send via parachute.

I sit down in my chair and look to the station next to me to see Sola, the District Five victor I met on my victory tour.

"Hey," I greet her weakly. "How are your tributes?"

"Hey, Magnolia," she nods to me. "Honestly, I don't know how long they'll last. Let's hope they survive the bloodbath," she sighs. "What about yours?"

We talk for a little while, until a loud robotic voice makes me jump. _Tributes in tube. Arrival in thirty seconds. Prepare your stations. _

"Good luck," Sola whispers. I turn to my screens and grip Alec's hand for support. My breathing is already labored.

All screens in the room flash to life in unison, and I am met with the sight of Mike and Cyana as they are pushed into the sunlight. The other, bigger screen gives a good view of what they are seeing.

The arena is filled with hills, hills, and more hills. The cornucopia is situation on the tallest hill, in the dead center of the oval arena. The top is flat and wide enough to contain the twenty-four tributes spread equidistant from the center. Beyond the main hill, others coat the distance, some steeper than others. The further away from the center, the more trees there are. They appear very thick at the edges of the arena.

The only source of water appears to be a wide river that winds randomly through the hills. The tributes are dressed in standard clothes and boots. A little box at the edge of the screen tells me it is average weather with a slight breeze.

The sixty second countdown chimes down, echoing loudly throughout the room.

_10, 9, 8, 7..._

I freeze in fear from the horrible memories that chime brings. I'm sure everyone hear is reminded of their own time in the arena. But I have to focus. For Michael. For Cyana.

_3, 2, 1. _"Ladies and gentleman, let the thirteenth annual Hunger Games begin!"

They are running. Mike towards the cornucopia; Cyana away from it. I try to keep track of their alliances, but they are everywhere. Some tributes have reached the Cornucopia and have gotten weapons. Kids are screaming. Kids are dying. Mike throws a spear into a boy from Ten.

I can see Cyana better now. Her and the two from Eight are running away, huddled together. Barley and Nasser are running to the nearest packs. The girl from Eight glances back and sees Nasser cornered by a sword. Within a second, she is screaming and all three are running back in confusion.

"No! Run, Cy, run!" I find myself screeching. I jump up and lean against the desk. Alec grips my hand harder and I realize I'm making a scene. I'm not the only one. Others are screaming at their tributes. Some are pounding their fists in exasperation.

A knife lodges in the neck of the teen who was about to attack Nasser. The tribute from Twelve grabs a pack and the five underdogs are running away again, with the boy from Eight bringing up the rear.

An arrow flies into Eight's thigh and he screams in pain, but keeps moving. I slide into my chair in relief when they are far enough away from the bloodbath to escape further notice. They regroup behind a hill.

"Cyana, Tailor, you two carry the bags," Nasser says, and they nod. Him and Barley help support the injured boy.

"I say we head for the trees," Barley says.

"I can fish, so we should stay near the river," Cyana adds.

They start moving through the hilly expanse, headed north. I divert my attention to Michael's screen to check on him. He is splattered with blood and has a few gashes, but otherwise seems fine. He's still fighting, though, so I have to look away. I don't want to watch that.

"My heart is about to pound out of my chest," I tell Alec.

"This is the worst part," he says, his eyes never leaving the tribute screen. He's doing a much better job at keeping his voice level than I am, but I still see him wince and flinch every time there is a death onscreen.

It's an agonizing bloodbath. The surrounding hills can provide decent coverage, but to get to them, you have to run down the hill the cornucopia is on. Some kids run that direction and start tumbling down the massive hill, only to be picked off one by one by those with weapons on top of the hill. It's just like the big grass plain last year. The game makers made sure you have to run through an area where you are very vulnerable before you can reach safety.

By the end of it, nine of the twenty-four are dead, including one from Mike's alliance. It turns out Craig from Two wasn't cut out for the Games, after all.

Everyone is on the move now. My tributes are safe for the moment, so I can take a minute to breathe. All I can think is that these next two weeks will be agonizingly long and difficult.

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	24. Loss

**A/N: I really have been trying to keep a regular update schedule. A few things going on in my personal life have made it difficult, so I made this chapter long to make up for the wait, even if it's a little depressing. As always, thank you to all of my reviewers! For the longest time, I would get one or two per chapter so it's really exciting to see it taking off now :)**

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Watching the Games from a mentor's perspective is entirely different than being in the arena, yet it isn't like tuning in from home, either. When you watch at home, you feel bad for each death, but there is really no emotional connection. There is no paralyzing fear that takes over your body as you await the next attack.

When you have two kids you've come to care about in the very place that haunts your nightmares, you are scared. It doesn't matter that you're safe in a high-tech room in the Capitol. You worry about them. You know the chances of them surviving are very slim, and when you try to mentally prepare yourself for the worst, you feel panic bubble up inside of you.

What makes it worse is you can't help but worry for the other kids, too. Physically being in the arena is a different story. In that situation, survival instincts take over and you put yourself above others, whether you want to or not. That is what makes it so easy to lose sight of who you are.

Now, as I sit in the mentor seat, I feel like I understand what every single one of these tributes are going through. When I see a girl from an outlying district cry out in pain as she tries to doctor a bad ankle injury, all I can think is I know the dizzyingly painful feeling torn flesh brings. I see a tribute boy huddled against a tree, whispering over and over again that he wants to go home. It just about breaks my heart.

Yes, the fear and anxiety is still here, even if the danger of being killed isn't. One thing that is entirely different between my situation now and last year is how much I know about the arena. Tributes wander through the Games blindly, hoping they won't fall into a Capitol-crafted trap. Mentors see everything.

As Cyana's group wanders through the hills, a little circle appears on my screen before disappearing. I hear a chiming sound and a tiny purple box in the bottom left corner replaces it.

"What's that?" I ask Alec in confusion.

"It's an alert," he answers, his eyes not leaving Mike's screen. "Tap it."

The idea of directly tapping a screen doesn't make much sense to me since the only electronic I've ever dealt with is the television, and that uses buttons. I tentatively reach my hand forward and tap the little box. It surprises me when the screen responds to my touch and a larger box comes up. A picture of the plants the tributes are walking next to pops up, along with some text.

_Poison Sumac_

_Risk: Low - Moderate_

_Overview: Has been genetically altered to cause a more painful rash. Swelling will accompany symptoms._

_Cautions: Do not burn. Lethal if enters the lungs. _

I stare at the words for a while. I get the feeling that this arena will be full of poison. The sumac is most likely just a mild annoyance compared to the plants that will be found further away from the cornucopia.

I don't realize that Alec is reading off my screen as well until he speaks up. "It looks like that sponsor woman was trying to give us a hint. I wonder how she knew about the poison."

"I don't know. What are we supposed to do to warn Mike and Cy?" I ask.

"There's not much we can do except send them medicine if they walk into it," he replies solemnly.

That has my stomach in knots.

Most of the noise in the room comes from the computer screens. We don't talk much. It is mostly a job of carefully watching and waiting. I focus mainly on the screen with Cyana, though I look at Alec's screen to check on Mike periodically. The underdog group continues a steady trek away from the cornucopia until darkness falls. The five of them look up into the sky as the Capitol seal appears.

The first to appear is Craig from Two. He is followed by the boy from Three, the girls from Five, Six, and Seven, the boy from Ten, both from Eleven, and the girl from Twelve.

Nasser winces at the last picture. "I wish she would've just come with us," he says sadly.

"I asked her to," Barley says. "I asked my district partner, too. They didn't want an alliance," he sighs.

They all sit there for a few minutes. A wind blows from the north, and it must be chilly because I see a shiver go up Cyana's spine.

"Where do we go from here?" Tailor, the girl from Eight, asks. She's sitting with her arm around her district partner, who is still in pain from his injured leg.

"I say it's best we go uphill and make a shelter for the night before others come hunting," Barley decides. The others nod.

"Should I go fishing?" Cyana asks uncertainly with a glance at the river.

"That can wait until morning," Nasser tells her gently. Even in the darkness, I can see his eyes glisten the same silver tone as Cy's do. It seems like most people from Twelve have dark hair and grey eyes. Cyana could almost pass for one of them, but she definitely looks more healthy than they do.

The five of them struggle up one of the steeper hills and are winded by the time they reach the peak. There's a few scattered trees at the top. The two older boys begin breaking limbs off of some of the trees and constructing a makeshift shelter. Cyana teaches the others to tie knots using curly grey strands of moss to join the branches.

They go through the two backpacks they managed to obtain in the bloodbath. The contents include two knives, a minimal amount of food, a thin blanket, and what appears to be a small packet of medicine. Even from this early point in the Games, I can tell that Barely and Nasser will be protective of the younger ones. They sit just outside of the shelter and look downhill to keep guard as the others curl up under the blanket and close their eyes.

After a few minutes pass with nothing notable occurring, I turn my attention to Michael and his group. They are trying to wipe the blood off their skin, and by their words, you'd think they felt powerful. The terrified look in their eyes suggests otherwise.

"Time to go hunting," Orion from One says, pulling out a sword. "Alaina, go stay guard," he says, pointing the weapon to the girl from Two.

"Okay, if I have to," she says, sounding disappointed that she can't go murder teens with them. The second her alliance has half-ran, half-stumbled downhill and out of earshot, though, she buries her face into her hands in distress. I wonder if she's upset over her district partner's death or horrified with herself.

The night drags on, and I find myself glancing at the clock. Before long, it's 3:30 in the morning. I roll my chair close to Alec and lean against his shoulder with a yawn.

"You can go to sleep, Mags. Nothing's happening right now," he says.

"But you're tired, too. You sleep first," I comment, looking up at his face. Dark circles are plastered under his eyes, just as they are every time we are in the Capitol. They look so wrong against his tanned skin.

"I'm not tired," he says automatically.

"Sure you aren't," I say with a roll of my eyes, but I drop it after that and turn my attention back to the shadowy figures running through the arena. They aren't close to Cyana's group, which makes me feel a lot better, but I know I couldn't sleep knowing that could change at any moment.

Around thirty minutes later, I see Alec's head nod forward out of the corner of my eye. He lifts it up, still half-asleep. Soon after, it falls sideways onto my head, which is resting on his shoulder. It brings a tiny smile to my lips and the littlest glow of warmth inside of me amongst all the stress and fear. I decide not to wake him up.

My eyes are starting to hurt from staring at the bright monitor. When I blink, I can still see the arena in front of me. It's all quiet for now, so I test that out a few times, opening and closing my eyes to see how long I can hold the image. My eyes are closed when I hear a shrill scream and a canon. My eyes fly open immediately and I jump up in alarm, accidentally knocking Alec's head off of me. He jolts awake and I am hyperventilating.

Then I see that it was only the girl from Ten. Wait, did I just say "only"? I automatically feel guilty for feeling relieved. I hear a devastated whimper from across the room, and I look over to see the sole victor from Ten close to tears. Both of her tributes have died within eighteen hours two years in a row. Her screens cut off and she stands up and kicks her chair angrily. She holds her head down, hiding her face with a sheet of jet-black hair as she mopes out of the room.

"I'm sorry," I whisper as she passes me. If she hears me, she doesn't acknowledge my words.

On screen, Orion, Tiffany, and Mike look at the girl they just killed and decide to go back to the cornucopia for breakfast. Dawn will arrive soon.

"What if that was one of our kids?" I ask Alec, my voice slightly shaky.

"How long was I asleep? Were you sleeping, too?" he replies in confusion.

"Not long. I wanted to let you sleep. I should have been paying better attention," I say miserably.

"It's okay. Nothing happened," he says while putting an arm around me. That's not entirely true. Something did happen. An innocent girl died. Sure, she isn't my responsibility, but what if it was Cyana? No, Mike promised he wouldn't kill her. But the careers are still tracking Barley's group…

A while later, the sky lightens up enough to see the tributes better. Tailor is keeping watch outside of the shelter and Cy is lying awake under the blanket. It's still dark enough for everything to have a bluish tint, but as the shadows lift, I start to notice something strange. It first comes to my attention when I see Cyana absentmindedly scratching at her arm. That's when I realize she has a faint rash across her face. I'm sure it's all over all of their bodies.

If they got into some kind of poison plant, why didn't I get an alert? My eyes shift to the bottom of the screen and I see a tiny purple box. How did I miss that?!

I curse under my breath and tap the notification. It isn't poison sumac, but the moss they used to build their shelter causes a similar rash.

The boy from Eight had been sleeping with only his hair visible to the camera. He rustles awake now and Cyana's eyes widen when she sees him. "Rayon, you-your face.." she begins.

Now that he's visible to the camera, I see he got the rash much worse than the others. His face is completely swollen and covered in blisters.

Rayon touches his face, then looks down at his hands to find more blisters. He throws the blanket off of them and looks at his leg where the open wound was yesterday. Now it's closed with pus filled blisters. It isn't a pretty sight. I can tell it makes Cyana feel faint because her face pales and she looks away.

Now I understand why the boy got it the worst. The poison got into his bloodstream.

As they start waking the others up, I take the opportunity to talk this over with Alec. "I don't want them eating anything here. Or starting any fires. If just touching plants causes that, anything edible has to be lethal," I announce.

Alec frowns. "We'll run out of money really fast that way." He clicks on the sponsor money screen and brings up a list of prices. It's only been one day, and the prices have already hiked up. We can afford food now, but if it keeps increasing like this, we won't be able to for long. We eventually decide on sending them a loaf of bread while it's still comparatively cheap.

"How will Barley and Nasser get any parachutes?" I ask. I'm sure they have sponsors, but Districts Nine and Twelve have never won the Games. No one is sitting at those districts' designated stations to look out for them. I can't help but think this whole mentor system has a lot of flaws.

"Sometimes escorts or people they hire come in, but that isn't all the time. I expected someone would be here for the boy from Twelve at least since he has a chance," Alec replies.

"I think we should be able to use the money since they're in an alliance with our tributes," I say.

I look a few stations down to the lone victor from Eight, who seems to have fallen asleep. Technically we should be working with him, too. And the mentors from One and Two whose tributes are allied with Mike…Now I can see where this gets confusing.

"I don't know. I just don't want to see that money go to waste," I add.

That makes Alec think. "Maybe if we talked to the gamemakers, we could get permission, as long as Cyana is alive and working with them."

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the idea of going talk to the gamemakers. One of us would have to stay here, which means the other would have to walk into the lion's den alone. Knowing them, they would probably want something in return and turn it into an ultimatum. And what would they want? Money? No, they have enough of that. I bet I have a pretty good guess of what I would have to do, and that isn't something I want to think about.

"Maybe if we start running low on money," I say doubtfully. I look back over to the empty seats across the room. It's a shame no one is here for them. I bet all that money will go straight to the gamemakers.

Back in the arena, the underdogs have finished their bread and are on the move again. The boy with the rash isn't looking too good. He's definitely on a downward spiral, and it has everyone looking depressed. The medicine in the packs was able to help relieve the discomfort from their rashes, but it isn't strong enough to help the boy.

By the afternoon, I am beyond exhausted and my eyes are stinging, but I force myself to stay awake. Ideally, Alec and I should be taking turns sleeping. The problem is both of us are too stubborn to agree to take the first shift. It's childish, I know. I just wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something happened while I was taking a nap and Alec refuses because he fell asleep for a while last night. I think the only reason he isn't still nagging me about it is because he can tell I don't have much time before I crash from exhaustion.

I ignore my brain's wish to rest and listen in as Nasser asks Cyana about life in District Four. "How do you like living by the ocean? I've always wanted to learn how to swim," he says.

"I like being in water a lot," she says softly. She glances at the river. "It's good swimming weather today. Maybe I could teach you all how to swim if it would help us travel faster," she adds shyly.

Just a few days ago, I told her to make herself as useful to her alliance as possible. I think she really is trying to follow my advice. She has a wooden bow that she spent the better part of the morning crafting strung over her shoulder. I'm not sure how well it will work, but it does feel good to know something I taught her could help her survive longer. I feel almost proud in a weird way.

The others blink with uncertainty at her request, but Nasser says he'll give it a try. Cyana smiles and dives into the water. Seconds later, I hear something that sounds like a cross between a gasp and a shriek, and she is flailing to get out of the river.

I jump up from my chair and lean forward reflexively, even if it does absolutely nothing to help her. A million bad scenarios run through my mind and I let out a whimper. Please be okay. Please be okay.

Thankfully, the others react immediately and help pull her out of the water. Cyana is shaking violently and her teeth are chattering loudly, but she looks otherwise unharmed.

" S-s-so c-c-cold" she explains through shivers. She looks like she can't catch her breath. Barley and Nasser have their arms around her in a second, trying to transfer their body heat to her.

An alert pops up on my screen to inform me the water temperature is well below freezing. This would've been helpful information about two minutes ago!

I sink back into my chair yet again with a sigh. It looks like Cyana will be okay because she was only in the water for a few seconds. I just hate the fact that all I can do is watch. Sure, I'm able to send parachutes, but my money supply is limited and it's best to wait for something more serious. I hope that when that time comes (because I know it will), the prices won't be too ridiculously high.

Hours blur into days and I lose track of time. Eventually, I'm forced to sleep, though I wouldn't say it's really peaceful. My subconscious greets me with nightmares as usual and I am terrified of waking up to find my tributes dead. I rarely leave the mentoring room. When I do, it's just to grab something to eat from the District Four suite.

I'm taking my sleep shift in the early morning hours of day five when Alec shakes me awake. It takes me a second to sort through my grogginess and focus on the words he's saying. After a minute though, the fuzziness in my brain clears and everything clicks. Mike's group is only three hills away from Cyana's. At this rate, they'll collide within minutes.

Despite my effort to remain calm, my breaths get shallow and panicky as I hurriedly click on Cyana's screen. Her group of four is huddled in a small alcove halfway up a grassy hill. Only the girl from Eight is awake, and she looks absolutely lifeless. Her district partner died from poison and infection on day three. Over the last few days, their group has accumulated small injuries and everyone in the arena has been exposed to poison. They look worse for the wear with each passing day.

Mike's group is headed straight for the same hill. Their words are light, but their expressions are grim. They keep getting closer and closer.

"What am I supposed to do?!" I cry out in frustration, gaining stares from a few surrounding victors. Before Alec has time to answer me, I think of something. "A letter! Let's send them a letter! How do you do that?!" The desperation makes my voice shriller with every word.

Alec frowns and looks down, and I can tell right then the answer isn't going to be what I want to hear. "Letters take hours to go through. They have to be authorized and sent by the gamemakers. There's no time, Mags."

This isn't fair. There has to be something I can do. There has to be.

There isn't.

Even with Alec's arms to steady me, I am convulsing as I wait for the inevitable bloodbath. Tailor from Eight stares blankly into the dark sky. She finally catches the first sound of a voice and stiffens. Her small frame gets a little shaky as she glances around, probably trying to determine whether her ears are playing tricks on her. In the arena, every little noise sounds like danger.

Another one of the careers' voices echoes through the hills and Tailor reacts immediately, shaking the other three awake.

"Someone's coming! We have to go. _Now."_ she whispers loudly.

The others must have been in a very light sleep because they take no time at all to jump up. Barley and Cyana start gathering the packs and hand-made weapons. Nasser tries to question Tailor unsuccessfully before a new voice makes them all freeze.

It comes from the girl from Two. "Look, they're up there!" she yells, and all hell breaks loose.

It's chaos. The careers rush up the hill, weapons pointed, and the underdogs have no where to go. The hill gets too steep to go further up and heading down is clearly not an option.

Alaina from Two is the first to reach them, immediately tackling down Tailor and thrusting a knife into her throat. Cyana screams and tries to run. Both tributes from One are hunting down Nasser and Barley. Orion screams for Mike to take out Cyana.

He corners her in no time and points his spear toward her. Cyana looks up at him like a scared animal, her eyes wider and more innocent than ever.

I am sick to my stomach. No. No. He promised!

"Mike? Please, please," Cyana begs as she sinks further into the ground.

Michael's expression falters. He glances around quickly and lowers the spear. "I won't kill you. Get out of here, Cy!"

Cyana looks dumbfounded. A flashback overtakes my mind. Suddenly, Cyana looks exactly like Crystal did after I saved her. Just as confused, too.

"What?" she gets out.

"I said go!" Mike says urgently and gives her a strong shove down the steep hill. I hear the sickening crack of one of her bones as she lands on her shoulder and tumbles down the hillside.

Orion and Tiffany have just about finished off Barley and are targeting Nasser when they notice Michael is letting Cy escape.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Orion screams at Mike. He doesn't approach him, though. He tears off down the hill in the direction of Cyana.

Without her district partner, Tiffany is struggling to take down the boys. Nasser quickly grabs her knife and targets her from behind, and just like that, the girl from One is dead. I barely notice because I am focused on Cyana.

She is lying near the base of the hill, sobbing in pain. I can tell she's trying to move, but she can't. Orion throws the spear from twenty feet away, and it's all over.

Cyana's computer screen shuts off and I can't breathe. I had inhaled in a gasp I can not make my body function to release the breath. My jaw is hanging wide open and it feels like the same spear that took out Cyana has been thrown into my heart.

She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead.

I knew this was coming, but nothing could have prepared me for this.

I'm barely aware of Alec right in front of my face. I can feel the weight of his hands gripping my shoulder, but he seems so distant. I stare uncomprehendingly into the tiny gold flecks in his green eyes and notice they are shiny with…tears? That gets my attention enough to focus on his words.

"Breathe, Mags! Please! It's not your fault. There is nothing you could've done," he says over and over.

I finally find it in me to exhale. Unfortunately, tears slide out along with my breath. I bury my face into Alec's shoulder, trying to keep the crying from turning into more embarrassing sobs. When I peek out, I see some of the other mentors are looking over to me sympathetically. Others look unimpressed with my emotional weakness. Deep down, I do care that they are judging me, but I have bigger problems right now.

Abruptly, I get up and begin walking to the exit door. Alec tries to follow me, but I shake my head. "Mike needs you now more than ever," I somehow manage to get out without my voice cracking. He needs me, too. The promise I made him make is the reason he's in all this mess. I plan on coming back, but I just can't deal with this right now. I can't.

"I'll be back soon," I add as I leave. I feel guilty already for leaving when Mike could be killed for his actions any minute. I start to turn back, but I feel a full emotional breakdown coming my way. I have to get myself under control first.

As I make my way back to the room, I glance up at a television screen that constantly streams the Games. It looks like there were four casualties from the confrontation: Tailor, Tiffany, Cyana, and Barley. The girl from Two is just barely holding on. Orion is blowing up at Michael, just like when Osten got mad at me. Mike is arguing that they need his fishing skills to survive because they have run out of food and most of the plants are poisonous.

Nasser is the only one of the underdog alliance who managed to escape. He has been running, but he finally stops and slumps against a tree, staring at the blood on his hands. "Why?" he asks no one. Maybe he's asking himself. "Why?!" he says again, pounding his fist against the tree. He looks out at the river forlornly, possibly considering jumping in.

I take the elevator to the fourth floor. The tears are still flowing steadily down my face, but I know I will be sent into full blown hysterics at the drop of a hat.

I see Isidora's orange-streaked pink hair as I walk in. I'm really not in the mood to hear whatever excited comment she has about the Games right now. She probably thinks what happened to Cyana is the definition of entertainment. I'm so sure that she will say something that I mentally prepare a rude response to combat her.

When she hears me come in and turns around, she looks so distressed that it throws me off guard. Her thick makeup can't completely hide the dark circles under her eyes, and I can tell she was just crying.

"Thank goodness you're back," she says weakly. "For as much as I love the Games and understand the honor that goes into them…it's always hardest to see my kids go." And with that, she fully bursts into sobs.

Surprisingly, her tears don't trigger my breakdown. They actually have the opposite effect. The truth is I'm better at taking care of others than I am at taking care of myself. My brain goes on autopilot and I find myself sitting on the sofa next to Isidora and trying to comfort her.

"I just keep thinking, there's more I should have done! And, and I told them thirteen was a lucky number, and just look what happened! I probably got their hopes up. Ugh, I'm a horrible person," she cries.

"No, no. You're a good person, Isidora. It was my job to keep them safe," I tell her.

"You really think I'm a good person?" she asks, lifting her head from my shoulder.

"Of course I do," I respond.

She looks a little funny with the makeup smeared all over her face, but it makes me feel good to see her smile. "Thank you. You're a sweet girl, Mags."

Hadn't Cyana said something along those lines? That just brings back the scene of the spear and I feel bad all over again.

"Oh, I think I got some makeup on your shirt, dear," Isidora adds.

I pull on my sleeve and see there are bright colors smeared all over the shoulder of my white shirt. "It's okay. I was about to go change anyway," I say honestly.

With that done, I am free to go to my room. I lock the door behind me and collapse on the bed. I decide to give myself thirty minutes to get everything out. Is that too long? What if Mike is dead by then? The thought brings the tears back stronger.

I think I might hate my life.

The thought sounds so weird in my head. It's like a forbidden phrase; one I've spent the past year trying to push away because admitting to it would be giving up. I was doing a pretty good job, too, until this year's Games. Now I don't see the point in my efforts to be happy because I'm just going to have to deal with this for the rest of my life.

"I hate my life," I whisper so softly it's almost inaudible. It feels so good to get the words out. They've been trapped for far too long. I repeat the phrase, getting louder and louder until I'm screaming into my pillow like an angry thirteen year old. I'm a victor and an adult by legal standards, so you'd think I would have more dignity than this.

Regardless of how immature I'm acting, it does help. Thirty minutes isn't long enough to completely cry my emotions out, but I do feel ready to go back. Maybe let Alec take a break.

Then I remember the makeup on my sleeve. I head to my closet and start shifting through the ridiculous outfits. Near the back, a few folded sheets of paper catch my eye.

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Chapter 23 guest review replies:

Dude: Thanks for reviewing again! I'm really glad you liked it!

Dusty714: Your reviews are always so nice! Thanks again, and it makes me feel really special to know this is the only one you read all the time :)

Oh, one more thing, guys. Since the timeline is going to start moving faster soon, I'm curious to know what you would like to see in the story. (Like Snow becoming president, quarter quells, etc.) Thanks!


	25. Breathe

**A/N: It's been a while, and I'm really sorry about that. I know I apologize and give excuses a lot :/ Things are finally just starting to get back to normal from after the hurricane and school has been killing me. Kids, I don't advise you take honors/ AP classes. They kill your soul. Okay, back on topic, thanks for all the suggestions on future chapters! This chapter finishes off the 13****th**** Games so those things will come soon! I hope y'all keep reading despite my slowness.**

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I reach my hand out and pull the folded white sheets off the hanger they are attached to. How long have these been here? I turn them over in my hand and notice the first paper has my name written across it. The handwriting is done in a messy scrawl that makes it obvious that whoever wrote it was in a hurry. Still, I can tell it is a girl's writing, and my mind automatically goes to Cyana. It has to be from her.

When I open it, I see my guess was right. I glance at the clock because I promised myself I would go back to the mentor room as soon as possible to be there for Michael. There's nothing I can do to help Cyana anymore so it would be best for me to just read this later. I hide the papers back in the closet again and take two steps towards the door before I realize there's no way I can make myself wait to read it. Curiosity wins over and I pull the papers back out and open the one addressed to me.

_Mags,_

_I hope you listened to me and waited until I was already gone to read this. _

I stop myself right there because I don't remember making any deal like that. She must have been planning to tell me that when she delivered the papers. Maybe she came to my room to talk to me the night before the Games started. I wouldn't know because I was sleeping in Alec's room that night.

Then the connotation the words carry hits me. Cyana wasn't planning on surviving the arena. Now I feel miserable, but I have to remind myself that I'm wasting time. I need to get through this letter fast.

_I told you I would try to win, and I will. I realize that's probably not going to happen, though. I'm not scared of dying in the arena. That doesn't mean I'm not terrified of how I will die. I really hope it's quick, but that's beside the point. There's a few reasons I'm okay with not winning. One is that I would rather die pure on day one than die at the end as a killer. I would never hurt anyone and I don't want to be pushed to that point. _

_Reason Two is something no one ever really talks about. They never tell us in school what is supposed to happen after you die, but I remember my grandma telling me stories about how everyone goes to a better place, and I believed her. Maybe I will end up going where she is now… _

_The third reason is the hardest to say. I really hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I get the feeling being a victor isn't as great as they make it seem. I can tell there's more going on than I know. I noticed it first when you came back from getting sponsors that night. After that, I kept noticing more little signs. You're really brave for being able to handle all of this. I don't think I'm brave enough._

_Anyway, I wanted to thank you for being so nice to me this past week. I wrote this because I don't want you to blame yourself when I don't make it. Please don't. I meant what I said when I said you were like an older sister, and I'm really glad you didn't give up on me. Oh, and please remember to talk to my best friend. I wrote a letter for her, too. I know you'll deliver it for me. Thanks, and I'm sorry I couldn't win for District Four._

_Cyana W._

I pull the letter to my chest, and I can feel more tears welling up already. I know this was supposed to make me feel better. Maybe it will someday, but that day is not today.

I walk numbly to the dresser and hide the papers under some clothes. I can't risk having anyone from the Capitol find them because the part about victor's lives borders on rebellious, even if it is true. Maybe Cy is better off dead. She doesn't have to worry about being punished. I've wondered the same thing about my cousin for the past year. I'm glad he doesn't have to deal with this.

Things would be so much easier if I had just died, too. Well, not easier for my family. Easier for me, definitely, but that's selfish to say.

Oh well. I can't make the world stop moving just because I'm miserable. Time to get going. I quickly change my clothes and head straight to the mentor room.

I've just made it to the District Four station when Alec turns around. "Are you okay? I know I should've followed you, but…"

"No, it's fine. I didn't want you to leave Mike alone. I shouldn't have, either," I say, partially dodging the question. "Is he okay?" I ask worriedly.

"For now," Alec sighs. "Him and One are still arguing. I don't know how much longer it'll be before it turns into actual fighting."

I sit down next to Alec and look at Mike's screen. The three remaining careers are pale-faced and shaky. A few days in the arena will rob you of any strength you think you have. They look so beaten down as they limp along the ice-cold river, but their words are fierce and have venom behind them.

Most of the commentary is coming from Orion. "Tiff didn't have to die. We would have the numbers on our side right now if you would've just done your job," he growls.

Mike glares at him. "It's not like I actually killed her, you know, like you killed my district partner. I'd say we're even so let's just let it go!"

Orion stops in his tracks. "How are you going to try to compare that? Tiffany was in our alliance! The Four girl wasn't!"

I tense up because it looks like they are seconds away from pulling out their weapons.

"You need me," Mike reminds him again. "Good luck trying to fish without me here."

"I don't need you," Orion disagrees, but he turns back around and starts walking again. Meanwhile, Alaina from Two follows in silence, probably trying to avoid taking a side.

"When do you think they'll fight?" I ask Alec. I know it's a question of when, not if. I was in nearly the same situation during my time in the arena. Luckily, I was able to escape into the night before Osten or Kim could slit my throat.

"I think they're too scared to fight each other. It's hard to say who would win," he answers.

"Do you think they might try to kill each other in their sleep?" I ask. I feel a chill as I remember pretending to sleep as whispered voices plotted my death. It's impossible to watch this and not remember my experience. It's so similar that it's unnerving.

"Probably," Alec answers reluctantly. A few moments of silence pass before he speaks again. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't look too great."

"None of us look great," I say, dodging the question again. Talking about how I feel can wait until later because I don't need to start crying again. I'm getting really sick of my emotions controlling me. "You should go back to the room to sleep. We can switch again in a few hours," I say.

"I'm good with staying here," he says simply.

I try a few more times to convince him to go back without success. "You're so stubborn," I finally say. I mean for it to come out in a jokingly annoyed way, but I just sound depressed.

Contrary to my prediction, the imminent fight doesn't happen that night, when everyone is at their most vulnerable state. It happens sooner. The three of them are taking a short break from walking when Orion tries to attack Mike from behind.

Mike catches sight of the spear right before it makes impact and is able to move just enough to keep it from being fatal. That split second is all it takes to cross past the point of no return and start a bloody battle. I understand what Alec said earlier about Orion and Michael being afraid to fight because neither knows who would win. They really are physical equals.

I can't watch this. I can't deal with this. It's literally making me sick. Frozen in horror, all I can do is cringe as they chop away at each other. My heart beats in panicky gallops that falter so much it can't be healthy. So many screams… What am I supposed to do? What is the point of me even being here when all I can do is watch?

"Come on, Mike. Come on!" Alec begs through grit teeth. Without thinking, I reach across the desk and start hitting the sponsor screen, not caring to look at the prices or what I'm even ordering. I don't even know what I think this will accomplish. Hopefully a distraction, at least. I just can't bear to sit here and do nothing.

Both boys are getting weak and have suffered terrible injuries by the time the parachute drifts down. I'm desperately hoping it will distract Orion and give Mike the upper hand.

No such luck. They don't even seem to notice, but Alaina from Two walks casually over and picks it up. Alaina! I had completely forgotten she was there. Her face is expressionless and she looks completely indifferent to the fact that her allies are fighting to the death right in front of her.

"What did you send?" Alec asks in confusion, throwing a quick glance in my direction before looking back at the screen.

"I don't know," I mumble unintelligibly. My attention is still focused on the boys, though the girl is threatening to distract me. I get it's her best bet of survival to stay out of the fight, but how can she be so indifferent? For whatever reason, it makes me angry that she doesn't care. At least, I think I'm angry. The mess of emotions in me are being drowned out by stress and fear.

The fight could only have been going on for a few minutes, but it feels like an hour has passed by the time Mike's leg gets cut bad enough for him to fall to the ground. Alaina is suddenly interested in the turn of events because she rushes over to help Orion finish him off. The second and last canon of this year's District Four tributes booms.

And just like that, they're both gone within hours of each other. These two kids who I spent a week getting to know and another week watching over while they were in the arena. Two kids who I was responsible for; who I almost considered my own even though the thought is ridiculous. Sweet, shy Cyana and strong, confident Mike. Both gone.

Mike really did think he would win the Games. Now his family will go on always thinking "what if." What if he hadn't volunteered? What if they never supported him in his ambition to win? Would things have played out any differently? I should know. I'm in a family that has been asking these same questions, even if they are never said out loud.

What hurts the most is the nagging feeling that it's my fault they are dead. I know deep down that all of this is out of my control, but it won't erase the guilt.

All of Four's screens are shut off now. I hang my head down and sigh. I don't think I have the energy to cry anymore.

"Let's go," Alec says, taking my hand. We exit in the same walk of shame that every victor has been through. We're walking through the lobby when the giant screen announces the names of the final four tributes.

"Final four already?" I ask weakly. "It hasn't even been six days."

"Must be a short year," Alec comments. We start walking again, but it's only seconds before something catches Alec's attention enough to make him stop. "Orion's gone," he says.

I look up at the screen and see he's right. An instant replay shows Alaina killing him shortly after Mike's death. By that point, he was too weak to defend himself. It was a low move on Two's part, but these Games aren't meant to be played morally.

The only other name in the final four that means anything to me is Nasser. I really hope he wins. It would help Twelve at the very least. He looks injured and deserves to have someone there for him to send him sponsor gifts. Instead, there's an empty chair back in the mentor room and a lot of wasted money. That's just another problem with this whole system. Nothing is fair, and those who want to fix the problems are punished.

"I want to show you something. It's in my room," I say when we reach the fourth floor. He follows me without question and lays across the bed sleepily when we get there.

"What is it?" he asks in between yawns.

I dig in the drawers of my dresser and pull out just the letter that was addressed to me. I clutch it in my hand and bring it back over to the bed, allowing myself to lean against Alec before I hand it to him. As he reads it, I watch his facial expression to gauge his reaction.

"When did…?" he asks, trailing off.

"Just found it today," I answer. I lean my head into his arm and close my eyes. After a few moments of sad silence, I say, "She was right about us. Our lives, I mean. Maybe it's better things happened how they did."

The words feel wrong. Honestly, I'm not sure what's wrong and what's right anymore. Life or death. Being killed or living as a victor.

I open my eyes to see Alec studying me cautiously. "Mags, are you doing okay? I know this is hard. Just try not to dodge the question this time," he says, brushing a strand of hair out my face.

"You noticed that?" I ask.

"Yeah, and you're doing it again," he says.

Guess I'd better actually answer this time.

"I'm not feeling too great," I admit. "It's been a really bad few weeks and…" I pause to breathe in. Now that I've started talking, there suddenly seems to be so much to say. "I got too attached, and I knew it the whole time. I don't understand how not to get attached, and now that they're gone, I miss them like crazy. Especially Cyana. I don't want to do this, Alec. I hate it. I hate having to watch. I hate knowing there's nothing I can do. And earlier I realized I ha… I'm not happy," I finish glumly.

The look on Alec's face almost breaks me. No, I'm not crying anymore. I blink the tears away before they are able to fall.

"I'm so sorry, Mags," he says. "We'll get through this. The Games are almost over. Soon we'll be back in Four and things will be better. Everything will go back to normal, I promise."

"Only for a few months." I think back to my Victory Tour, when I was so eager to change the way the world worked. Afterwards, I started accepting that things would never change. Now I feel the fire burning in me again. "How can you be happy with any of this? We pretend like everything's fine when it's not. They took your whole family and…"

"We're not talking about that," Alec says a little harshly. Even though I whispered the last part, it's still ridiculously risky to talk about those kinds of things here.

Even if we were back in Four away from any possible eavesdroppers, Alec still wouldn't talk about it. His family is a touchy subject for him, as is anything sounding remotely rebellious. He's paid the consequence for it before, and he never plans on messing up again. I wish I could let it go. I just can't. It's been the source of every major fight we've had. We're still struggling to work through it.

"Sorry," I say. The apology is more for speaking my mind in what could be a dangerous place; not so much for the words themselves. Usually Alec remains distant for a while after I bring up something like that, so I must sound really pitiful for him to forgive me immediately.

It feels so good to be wrapped in his arms. I feel safe and secure. "We all find ways to deal with it. You're one of the best at it," he says.

That last sentence baffles me. "You're just saying that. We both know I'm not," I respond.

"Yeah, you are. You know how to get up and move on. You're able to find the good in things no matter how bad life gets. That's actually what made me fall in love with you."

And there it is. Warmth. I feel it just under the surface of my cheeks and deep in my chest. It extends throughout my body, chasing away the ice and depression. Yeah, my life sucks. There's no denying it. That doesn't mean there aren't things worth living for. I had almost forgotten all the little reasons to smile. Love is one of them.

"I love you too," I squeak out. It isn't the first time we've said these words, but for whatever reason, the impact of them hits me harder than ever in this moment. I can't imagine facing all of this mess without him.

As soon as I try to verbalize these thoughts, my brain blanks out and I suddenly forget how to speak. Where words fail me, my lips do the job. I end up positioning myself across Alec's lap and tangling my hands in his dark hair. The kisses are more sloppy than usual, but the feeling of warmth is so strong that I can't make myself stop. I can get lost in the sensation and not have to feel scared or sad.

It's hard to say how long we go on like that. At least several minutes pass before I hear the sounds of footsteps in the hallway. They come and go, but it is just enough of a distraction to get my unwanted thoughts flowing again. I try so hard not to acknowledge them. All I want is to lose myself and forget all the painful parts of life. Now there's a nagging part of my conscience telling me it's a shame that I'm here making out with Alec, ignoring the fact that my tributes died brutal deaths only hours ago. No, I deserve to be happy. I'm not forgetting them…

Great, now I'm arguing with myself. I can't help but consider that I might be losing my mind.

I hesitate and it takes Alec a minute to realize I've stopped responding. "What's wrong?" he asks. Our faces are still close enough to where our foreheads are touching and his breath is warm against my skin.

"I don't know. Today's been pretty draining," I say. What an understatement.

"Yeah, and I think we both have a few days of sleep to catch up on," he agrees. Just the mention of sleep makes us both yawn.

"Hey, I told you to sleep earlier. Not my fault you didn't listen," I joke. A small smile covers my face when I realize I sounded almost like my normal self when I said it; not the lifeless being I feel like.

We turn in for the night, deciding to stay in my bed. Forget the fact that I'm a restless sleeper and he snores. It beats sleeping alone and being more vulnerable to nightmares.

I curl up against Alec as close as possible, feeling like he's the only thing I have to hold onto. I need a constant in a world where people I care about can easily disappear. I'm in no way healed. I won't be okay with what happened today for a long time, if ever.

As I try to drift into unconsciousness, I start out listing things to be grateful for. When I realize that gives me too much room to think, I switch over to repeating a few words. Three simple phrases:

_Breathe. Bad things happen. Life goes on._

If I tell myself this enough, it should sink in eventually. For the rest of my time in the Capitol, I take a deep breath every time negative emotions plant knots in my stomach. I acknowledge that bad things happened. Isidora, Alec, and I talk about it when we have "family" meals at breakfast and dinner. Isidora may be ditzy and stereotypically Capitol, but she is human. She can do a complete one-eighty, immediately switching from making a superficial comment about fashion to a deep statement on the tributes.

Most of all, I focus on keeping my life moving. That's what I've been doing since my own Games, really. It's the same lesson Crystal taught me in the arena. One day when we're both free, Alec and I go to a sit-down restaurant and spend the night visiting Kallan at a fancy hotel. It's not bad at all. I almost feel like a normal person for a few hours. Life isn't perfect, but it will never be. We do the best we can.

The victor is crowned just short of nine days into the Games. Isidora, Alec, and I watch solemnly from the sofa as the final battle between Alaina, Nasser, and a thin girl from Three drags out. Nasser barely manages to take them out and the announcement of Panem's newest victor comes from overhead.

Before I won, I always thought that new victors feel triumphant as the final canon booms. Now, I recognize the flash of horror and disgust in Nasser's eyes. I've been there. I've felt that. He doesn't even remotely resemble the boy I saw at the interviews a week and a half ago. That boy was strong, hopeful. This one is broken. There's no better word to describe it.

He's covered in the blood of other tributes, the kind of blood that will never go away. I remember that the underdog alliance never wanted to hurt anyone. He was pushed to his limit and did what he had to for survival. It's the best thing that could've happened for District Twelve. No one could blame him for it, but I know for sure that he will hate himself for his actions.

No glimmer of hope shows on his expression until the hovercraft comes to pick him up.

The post-Games events fly by after the doctors manage to mend his body back into a healthy condition. The first chance I get to talk to him is at the Victory Banquet in the president's mansion.

I wait until most of the crazed crowds have died off and manage to catch him alone as he stands by a punchbowl.

"Hey, congratulations on winning," I say as I walk up to him.

"Oh, thanks," he says unconvincingly. His eyes flicker to my face, then back to the punch. I get the feeling he's had enough attention and congratulations for one night.

"You're welcome. I know you probably don't feel great, but this is going to mean the world to District Twelve. Parcel Days are the best. Everyone is always so excited when the food train comes," I tell him. I pause after, wondering if he even feels like talking.

He nods slowly and looks back at me. "I hope so. Some people really need it." His gray eyes are studying me hard. It makes me a little uncomfortable, so I look away and focus on his olive-toned hands instead. I imagine he's thinking that those in Twelve need food much more than Four ever has. He would be completely right, of course. The next thing he says throws me off guard.

"You must have been Cyana's mentor."

"Yeah," I say, my face shifting into a frown as I feel a fresh pang of pain.

"She didn't deserve what happened. None of them did. I wish I could've helped them," he says.

"It's okay. Thanks for protecting her. It really meant a lot to see that," I respond. I hope my voice conveys how much I mean it.

Nasser starts to say something else. From the looks of it, it will be a question. However, I never hear it because someone taps him on the shoulder and points towards the staircase, where President Burns is standing. I see Nasser gulp. "I have to go," he says.

Oh yeah, the uncomfortable president-to-new victor talk. I wonder how Burns has threatened him. "Okay. Don't worry, you should be fine. Just be careful," I say, and he nods in understanding.

Come to think of it, those words can apply to the rest of his life.

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**Chapter 24 Guest review replies:**

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	26. Grow

**A/N: I found some time to write this weekend! Thanks again for all the reviews and suggestions. We're starting to get close to 100 reviews! Oh, the first small time skip is near the end of this chapter. I might could've put it in a separate chapter, but there are going to be a lot of time skips anyway, so they may as well start now.**

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This year, our return is no big, celebratory homecoming. Town Square is pretty much empty when Alec and I step off the train. The only ones at the station are my two little cousins, who are sitting on top of a post, waiting expectantly.

They both jump down and run our way when they see us. I drop Alec's hand to embrace them when they reach me. I can't even explain how relieved I am to see they are okay. It's been three weeks since I left the thick, humid air and salty scent of District Four. Part of me was terrified something would happen while I was gone.

"Marilla, can you do me a favor and stop growing?" I say. I'm still not used to looking up to her. She's thirteen now, otherwise known as the age where girls can change overnight.

She sticks her tongue out at me. "You're just jealous that the tallness gene skipped you."

"Fine, you got me," I say with a roll of my eyes. "At least Hallie is still smaller than me." I ruffle the hair on top my littlest family member's head.

"Mags! You're messing up my flowers!" she pouts, readjusting the crown on her head. Then her blue eyes focus on something far away as if she is trying to remember something. "Oh, how was your trip?" she asks.

My smile almost falters, but I manage to keep it. I know Hallie has been through a lot since she lost her brother. She's just so young, and I'll always see her as the baby of the family. I instinctively want to protect whatever thin shred of innocence she has left.

"It was okay. I'm glad to be home," I say. A lie followed by a truth. "Where's everyone else?"

"They're all at your house cooking. They were going to come later, but me and Hallie came in case the train got here early, which it did," Marilla says nonchalantly.

"Your mom's gonna be happy to see you," Hallie chirps.

"Yeah, that would be for the best," Marilla adds. Then the two young girls exchange a knowing look.

"What's going on?" I ask worriedly.

"Nothing. You don't need to worry," Marilla says to calm me, as if I'm the child here and not her.

"Okay, let's go," I say, though I'm not one hundred percent mollified. "You coming, Alec?"

"Do you want me to?" he asks uncertainly.

"Of course! What kind of question was that?" I laugh and take his hand again.

"Aww," Hallie says, and Marilla snickers.

For the rest of the way home, Marilla makes comments like, "We'll see how long the family get-together lasts before you two end up running away to a room" and "I bet mentoring wasn't the only thing going on in the Capitol." I pretend not to hear her, but it's really hard to play it off like it's not affecting me when my face is turning red. Ugh, Marilla fills in the annoyingly embarrassing little sister role perfectly.

"And this is why we usually hang out at your house," I tell Alec.

He just laughs. "You're actually embarrassed," he says, like it's the funniest thing in the world.

"No," I protest, wishing my blush didn't give me away.

Once we reach the crashing waves of the beach, Victor's Village is only steps away. I'm smiling enough to make the edges of my face hurt as I walk up the stone steps. The response from my family is immediate as soon as I enter the house. They are all talking to me and hugging me at once, and it's hard to focus on all of them at the same time. My eyes drift from my uncle to my aunt, then to my father. I freeze when they reach my mother.

She's much skinnier than she was when I left a few weeks ago, and that's saying something because she was tiny before. Now she's way too thin; the unhealthy kind of skinny.

She's saying something as she hugs me, but I step back. "You lost weight. Mom, have you eaten anything since I left?" I ask, my voice getting higher with every word.

"Mags, baby, it's okay. I'm just happy to have you back," she says gently. I can see in her eyes that she was expecting this reaction from me.

"No, it's not okay! How could you do this to yourself? None of you made her eat?" I ask, looking around at the other adults.

"I tried…" my father says sadly.

My uncle looks around uncomfortably. "Hey, I just got a new piece for my boat. Maybe we should all go see it?" he announces. My aunt puts her arms around the kids and guides them out the door.

"I need to talk to Mom," I say as calmly as I can manage.

My father nods slowly and walks out the door, motioning for Alec to follow him.

"Listen baby, I can explain," my mother starts, but I shake my head in silence and walk across the kitchen, straight to the pot sitting on the stove. I grab a bowl and scoop out some creamy crawfish corn soup, deliberately filling it to the very top. After that, I walk back over to the table and set the steaming bowl down.

"Eat," I say, pointing at the soup.

"I'm really not hungry. Things will get back to normal. Just give me a chance to be happy you're back."

"You can be happy and eat at the same time. Please, eat. I won't be able to sleep until I know you won't starve to death," I say shakily.

My desperation must have the same effect as a small child begging in a pitiful voice because she listens. She sits in the chair and slowly sips the hot soup by the spoonful. I can't help but notice how bony her arm is as she reaches for the spoon.

"Why would you do this to yourself? It's not healthy," I say sadly.

My mother looks up, and I see she is crying. "I get so worried when they take you away. I knew you were coming back, but it reminded me so much of last year. I can't protect you when you're gone. I didn't dream the Hunger Games would even exist when you were born. Then the war broke out and everything happened. We worked twice as hard to make sure you and your cousins would stay safe. I was pregnant for a second child when they announced the Games. I miscarried, and I'm glad I did because I couldn't even protect one child, much less two."

"What?" I ask. "Mom, why am I just hearing all this now?" I ask sympathetically. I sit down next to her and put my hand over her smaller one.

"I didn't want to even think about it after it happened," she says miserably. "The point is I haven't done my job as a mother. All I wanted was for you to be safe and happy. It makes me sick that they can just take you away. Now you're having to take care of me when it's my job to take care of you."

I feel the my eyes getting watery yet again as I look at my mother. She's in her mid-forties, but she looks so much older from her gray-streaked hair and worry lines. The product of a life of stress. I'm sure I won't age too gracefully either after all the stress I've been through, but I have a long time before I have to worry about that. Right now all that matters is helping my mother realize none of this is her fault.

"Mama, there's nothing you could've done. It is what it is. You've protected me the best you could, and it's my job to protect you, too. I'm not a little girl anymore. I grew up, and I want you to be safe just as much as you want it for me." I feel a tear slide down my face, and I wipe if off immediately. "I thought I was done crying for a while," I say softly.

"You really are grown up," she says, putting a hand over her heart. "You'll understand what I mean one day, when you have kids of your own. It hurts so much to watch and not be able to help or protect you. It's the worst feeling."

"I know exactly how it feels," I admit, thinking back to watching the spear go through Cyana's frame.

"I'm sorry," my mother says. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about? You look sad."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I tell her. "We'll have to get back to knitting together later. I kind of ruined the whole get-together tonight."

"The whole point was to have you back, and now you're here. Nothing ruined," my mom says, and I decide to believe her.

There's other things I wish I could discuss with her, but I really can't. They fall under a category labeled "victor things." Besides, I can't see any benefit in telling my mom that while I was gone, I was sexually harassed and realized I hate my life. If me just being gone made her nearly starve herself, that would definitely send her over the edge.

For now, I'll just bury those experiences and try to enjoy my night. We let everyone know it's okay to come back in and, though it starts out a little awkward, things go well.

As the night comes to a close, I get really tired. I don't exactly like sleeping by myself anymore, but I get the feeling asking Alec to spend the night in front of my family wouldn't go over so well. Marilla would never let me hear the end of it.

That night, I go to sleep feeling strangely cold without a body pressed against mine. A few hours later, I am awoken not by my own screaming, but a different kind of screech. The sound works it's way into my dream before I jolt awake, panting hard. It sounds electronic, if that makes any sense. A few seconds later, an announcer's voice takes over and I realize it's the television.

The only time the TV's come on by themselves is when there is an emergency broadcast. This can't be good. I follow the booming sound downstairs and into the living room, beating my parents there.

The headline "Thirteen Victors Becomes Twelve" stretches across the screen, followed by the name "Bovina Herd." I know I recognize the name from a previous Games, but I can't place it with a face.

Then the picture comes up and I recognize her immediately. It's the mentor from Ten who kicked her chair after her tributes died. I look at her black hair in the picture and remember how she used it as a sheet to hide her face as she walked out.

My parents make it to the living room a moment later, and I am still staring at the screen, dumbfounded. A Capitol reporter appears on screen and starts talking as words flash underneath him.

"The body of District Ten victor Bovina Herd was found at 1:30 A.M. inside her house in Victor's village. Peacekeepers have not determined the cause of death, but it appears to be a horrible accident. More details to follow."

It switches to President Burns, who looks even older than usual. I guess he wasn't expecting to make a television appearance tonight…or was he? That girl looked desperate after her tributes died. She might've done something out of anger that made her a threat to the Capitol… I didn't think they could ever actually kill a victor. Their families, yes. Make the rest of their already sad lives as miserable as possible. This must have been something different altogether. I struggle to listen to Burns' gravelly, aged voice to make sense of what happened.

"I can assure everyone that this was only an accident. The idea of a suicide is preposterous. Victors are provided with everything they could ever want. They are at the top of society in this country. What reason would Bovina have had to be unhappy? We do our best to take care of the victors we all hold dear to our hearts, so it's devastating that something like this happened. Her body will be shipped to the Capitol immediately, and we will have a memorial service in City Square preceding the burial."

After that, the scene switches to other reporters debating the circumstances surrounding her death. They seem to have completely taken the President's word that it wasn't a suicide.

Now that I think of it, suicide is just as likely an option as a Capitol-planned "accident." There is no way that young woman was happy. It disgusts me that Burns said we have no reason to be depressed. In reality, we have every reason in the world. If I was the only victor and didn't have Alec or even Kallan to help me, would I be contemplating suicide, too? Maybe, maybe not. Probably not because of my family, but who knows what kind of situation Bovina was in. Her family might have already been killed. She might have had a personal connection to one of the kids she mentored and had to watch them die.

There's no way of knowing what happened. Both possible explanations are horrible. I may not have known this victor personally, but it still hits me hard. It could have been any of us.

The victor from Ten's death weighs on my mind for several days. I keep thinking how easy it would be for me to disappear, and how many loose ends would be left if I did. In my room in the Capitol, it was so easy for me to decide I hate my life. I realized their were still things to live for, but it is finally dawning on me how grateful I am to be alive. I want to be there to see Marilla and Hallie graduate. Even though I'm uncertain whether it would be the safest idea to start a family, I still see marriage in my future.

If I perished tomorrow, whether it be my own decision or the Capitol's, promises would go unkept. One promise in particular stands out in my mind. I need to deliver Cyana's letter to her friend. I avoid doing so for the first week I'm back. Every time I think about it, I make up an excuse for myself. It will be hard to find her considering the only thing I know is that her name is Cerulean and she goes by "Lea."

I can make up any excuse I want. The truth is I'm hesitant to talk about Cyana because it will only make me depressed again. Eventually, I must remind myself that it's the only thing Cyana asked for me. I have to do it for her.

The summer heat is brutal as I finally approach the high school. I wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead and grip the letter tightly before walking in. The last time I was in this building was the day before my reaping. The last day of my old life. I kept in touch with friends from school for a while after I returned, but that communication has been steadily slipping away. I would've graduated by now, so I guess it would have happened anyway.

My eyes scan over the wooden tiles and glossy coral-colored mural that lead up to the office. So familiar, yet so distant.

No one's there when I look into the office window. "Hello?" I ask.

A tired looking secretary comes over to the window, and her eyes widen in shock when she sees me.

"Mags Brine? Are you here to pick up your younger sisters? She asks in confusion.

"Cousins," I correct her. "And no ma'am. They go to the lower school. I was actually looking for a girl named Cerulean."

She stares at me blankly. "Do you know the girl's last name?" she asks.

"Umm…no. Sorry, I don't."

"Oh, okay. Well, anything for a victor," she says. She walks across the room and opens a dusty file cabinet which must be filled with records of all the students. It takes a while before she pulls out a folder.

"Ah, you must be looking for Cerulean Dropel. She should be in room 18 right now. Does that help?" she questions, looking up from under her glasses.

"Yes ma'am. Thank you," I say and walk down the hallway. It won't be too hard to locate the room she's in considering I used to go to this school and probably took classes in that same room. When I find it, I open the squeaky door as inconspicuously as possible and awkwardly peek in.

The entire class of fifteen year olds looks my way. "Hey, it's that Hunger Games girl!" a loud kid calls from the back, causing the teacher to snap at them about staying on task.

"Do you need something?" the teacher asks. Welcoming isn't the word I would use to describe her tone.

"Can I see Cerulean Dropel for a few minutes?" I ask politely.

I can tell who Lea is because the whole class turns towards her. I recognize her from the reaping. She was the one hanging onto Cyana and begging her not to go. She looks at the teacher and receives a nod of approval.

I can get a better look at her now. She's a little taller than me and a little shorter than Cyana. Her brown hair is shoulder-length and straight. Her dark blue eyes watch me curiously.

"Cy told you to talk to me, didn't she?" Lea asks. It's barely a question. I'm sure she already knows the answer.

"Yeah. She wanted me to give you this," I say, straightening out the folded piece of paper and handing it to her. "I didn't read it," I tell her. Curiosity almost won over and convinced me to take a look at it, but it felt wrong. It wasn't addressed to me, so it wasn't meant for my eyes.

I watch Lea as she read's her best friend's final goodbye. Her lip starts quivering almost immediately, and she is in tears by the end.

"Th-thank you for g-giving me this," she gets out between whimpers. She takes a long, deep breath. "Gosh, I miss her so much already."

"I miss her too, and I didn't even know her that long. I'm so sorry. I tried my best to help her," I say.

"I know," she says softly.

"How are you handling things?" I ask.

"I don't even know what to do. She was practically my sister and now she's gone. It's like half my life just disappeared, you know?" Her eyes glisten with tears.

"The Hunger Games have messed up a lot of people's lives," I sigh. I see Lea glance back at the classroom and I realize I can't keep her out here too long. "Look, keep your head up. That's what Cyana would want. I'm here if you ever need to talk about her or anything else. You can find me at the third house in Victor's Village."

"Really?" She looks hopeful. "That's really nice of you. Thank you."

"No problem. Oh, one more thing!" I dig in my pocket and pull out the third folded sheet of paper. "Can you give this to Cy's parents?"

"Sure. I stop by there every day after school," she says, examining the paper.

"Thanks. You should probably get back to class now. Wouldn't want to miss anything important."

"Hah. Right, important," she says unenthusiastically. "I guess I'll see you later."

"Bye." I smile as she goes back to her class. In a way, I feel like I accomplished more for Cyana just now than I did the whole time in the Capitol. I just wish it didn't have to come to this.

* * *

The funny thing about growing up is you never feel it as it happens. If someone had asked me ten years ago how I would feel at age twenty, the answer would have been "like an adult." Now that I'm there, I can't say I feel any more like an adult than I did in my teens. The only huge life change came after I won the Hunger Games three years ago. I didn't notice much change between then and now, but when I compare myself today to when I was seventeen, I find that I have changed.

Appearance wise, I look the same. It's the mental aspect that is different. Now I know what stress feels like and how to deal with it. When I got back from the Games, I was no longer innocent, yet I was still naïve. A few years of being around corruption in the Capitol has changed that.

Now that I think about it, there is no certain age where you "grow up." Growing up is all about maturing, and that only comes through life experience. It is all comparative. A forty year old is still a child when compared to an eighty year old. There is so much to learn, whether it be conscious or not.

The past two years of mentoring have been just as bad as the first. All three girls' names will be forever in my mind, haunting my thoughts. I almost convinced myself the second time around that my tribute had a chance. She was a fiery one, but the arena made her vulnerable. The third was terrified and a little ditzy. All three are gone now, and I'm still here. Existing. It's what we do.

I still keep myself busy with different tasks, because an idle mind is the devil's plaything. It's a saying that seems as old as time itself. I never understood it before I became a victor.

Otherwise, I've been well. Honestly, I get along much better than the other victors. Three have joined the victor's circle since me, including Nasser. For some reason, I talk to them more than the older victors. When I was the newest, the others were a little intimidating. Now I have experience, and I feel like I'm responsible for helping the younger ones transition.

Nasser hasn't done so well. I know something happened over his victory tour, because he suddenly switched personalities overnight, just like Alec and a handful of other victors. The difference is I can see a glint of defiance in his eyes, no matter what positive thing he's saying about the Games. During the most recent Games, he got a hold of some liquor and was a drunk mess for most of the time. It makes me sad to see him like that, but in the end, it's his decision, not mine.

The only lifestyle change that's occurred over the past two years is me practically moving into Alec's house. Technically, my house is still under my name so my parents are allowed to stay there, but I spend most nights at Alec's. My parents weren't thrilled about it at first, since we aren't married. They came around eventually, but I really wish we _were_ married.

I might still be young, but I feel ready for it. I don't want to pressure him into proposing, though. There's been one or two times in the last few months where I thought he was about to, and I was really disappointed afterwards.

I let my mind drift to that now as I sit alone on the beach. Usually, I try to avoid any down-time just because I don't like being able to think about all the bad things that have happened. This isn't so bad, though. It's nice to daydream sometimes. I lazily pull my fingers through the sand, drawing lines and shapes that have no meaning. Every few seconds, the tide pushes in some tiny clams, and I watch absentmindedly as they burrow themselves back underground.

"There she is!" I hear a voice behind me, causing me to jump before I realize it's only Kallan. I turn around just in time to have Alec's dog run up to me and lick my face.

"Get down!," I say as I gently push the slobbering dog off of me. Then I look up to see Kallan and Alec. "You guys are back already? It's not even dark yet." They had been out on their boat, and they said this morning they would be gone all day.

"We saw something out there. I thought you might want to see," Alec says. He reaches his arm out, and I let him pull me up.

"What was it?" I ask.

"It's impossible to describe. Just wait until you see it," he answers.

"Yeah, you don't want to miss this," Kallan says, smiling. He takes the dog and goes back toward the mansions, while Alec and I head for the pier.

It takes a while for us to get on the fishing boat and head out to sea. The shoreline gets thinner and thinner the further we go out, and the sky begins to darken.

Alec stops the boat a good ways out and walks up behind me. "Look out there," he says, pointing into the distance. I squint and follow the direction of his hand, but I don't see anything.

"What exactly am I looking for?"

"No, you're looking the wrong way. It's further to your left. You can't miss it," he insists.

I look further out to the left, only the see more dark water. "There's nothing there," I say with certainty.

"Mags, how can you not see the only red thing in all the water?"

Red? I squint out into the distance again. Nope, nothing red. Either my eyes got bad within the past hour, or this is some kind of trick.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, but…" I start, but then I freeze. I've turned away from the ocean to find Alec…on one knee.

How does this breathing thing work again? I gasp loudly and cup my hands over my mouth. It's a miracle I keep my balance.

"We've come such a long way since we first met. Magnolia Anne Brine, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

I'm overcome with happiness. Once again, I can't speak. I nod over and over again until I recover from the shock enough to form words. "Yes!," I finally get out. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" After that, I break out into a giddy laughter.

Alec laughs at my response, and gently takes my arm to slide on a shiny pearl ring. I remember Isidora telling me they use diamonds in the Capitol. Pearls are the custom here. It's only natural to use something that comes from the sea. Speaking of Isidora, I'm pretty sure I'm as bubbly as her right now.

"It's beautiful," I say shakily. The ring can't hold my attention for long. Soon I am pressing my lips to his, barely noticing the rocking of the boat or the wind blowing wavy strands of my hair into both our faces.

It's moments like these that make this life worth living.

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**Chapter 25 Guest Review Replies:**

**Dusty714: Thank you so much! And yeah, I completely understand what you mean about being too lazy to log in haha. **


	27. Wedding

**A/N: Hey there :) This story just reached the 100,000 word mark, and it would make me so, so happy to reach 100 reviews along with it. If six of you lovely people review, my day will be made! Here's the wedding a lot of people said they wanted to see. Oh and I think President Snow will make an appearance by the next chapter.**

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I fall into a hushed silence as I gaze at my reflection in the vanity mirror. I try my hardest to take in every little detail. Today is one of the most important days of my life, and I want to remember every bit of it.

I won't allow myself to forget the exact way my wedding dress fits. It's a simple white dress that drapes to the floor. True, it's nothing like the elaborate dresses I'm given in the Capitol, but that doesn't matter. It's simple and elegant, and when I look at my reflection, I see _me. _Not a Capitol pawn. It's the kind of dress I would've worn at my wedding even if I had never been part of the Hunger Games.

My hair is done in a formal up-do and I am wearing some subtle makeup. I can imagine how different I would look if I had a prep team working on me.

It was my choice to keep this day small and intimate. It's no secret in Panem that Alec and I are together, even though we tried to keep it quiet at first. I was scared the President wouldn't approve, but eventually it became clear that having a victor couple only made the Games more marketable.

I guess that's the best way it could've worked out. What I don't like is that it's made us get more involved with the media, making it impossible for me to fly under the radar. The silver lining is that people will stop caring in a few years when there are more new victors to obsess over. Eventually, we'll be old news.

That day hasn't come quite yet, but my wedding day isn't something I'm willing to share with the Capitol.

My mother comes up behind me and squeezes my hand supportively. "You look beautiful, Mags. So beautiful."

I smile and thank her as Marilla bursts through the door.

"Aunt B, Hallie's dress doesn't fit!" she says in a rush.

My mother's smile pulls into a frown. "It fit her a few weeks ago. Where's your mom?" she asks.

"Late as usual," Marilla replies.

"Okay, I'll go help Hallie." On that note, my mom makes her exit.

Marilla leans against the door. She's nearly sixteen and looks so much different than the child I remember. For as much as she's changed physically, her personality has remained the same.

"So today's the day you tie the knot. Huh. You should have an interesting night tonight," she says, her face pulling into a sly smile at the end.

"Anddd you're not making any comments like that during the ceremony. I mean it, don't," I say. I'm smiling, but I'm completely serious at the same time.

"Okay, fine. I'll be nice because it's your special day," she sighs. "Where's the net thing you've been working on?" she asks, her blue eyes darting around the room.

"Oh. Hold on, I'll get it." I walk across the room and pull a large grass net out of a box. It's District Four tradition that the bride and groom craft a net together to drape over each other during the vows. Alec and I have been working on it for the past week. I'm pretty proud of our work.

"What do you think?" I ask my younger cousin.

Marilla examines it carefully. "It's cool." She pauses for a while before she speaks next. "Um, Mags, can I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it?" I ask in concern. I try to search her expression for any clue to what it is and come up empty-handed.

"After you're married and if you have kids…you're not just going to like disappear are you? I mean, you'll still have time for me and my sister, right?" she asks, avoiding my eyes.

"Nothing's going to change. I promise," I say. I'm pretty confident that's the truth.

"Okay," she says, sounding relieved. "But are you going to have kids? I remember you said you wanted to."

"Um, yeah I still want to eventually, but I'm just not sure if I want to risk it…" I trail off, but Marilla just looks confused. "The reaping," I clarify. "And the media. The kid wouldn't stand a chance at living a normal life. And I still have a lot of time to think this over. Today's my wedding day, so I really shouldn't even be worrying about this right now." I stop myself then because I feel like I'm rambling. "What about you?" I ask, changing the subject. "Still opposed to marriage and kids?"

"I'm fifteen. I don't even need to think about that." she answers.

"Okay then," I shrug and turn back to the mirror.

"Are you nervous?" she asks.

"A little," I admit. "Well, maybe more than a little. I'm more excited than nervous, though."

My mother bustles back into the room. "Fixed the dress situation. Time to get everything set up. We're falling behind schedule!" I smile then because this is the first time I can say my mom sounds like Isidora. Usually the comparison words the other way around.

She hands Marilla the box with the net and tells her to bring it down to the beach. The preparations continue for a while I am left sitting by the vanity, anticipation creeping up on me. Eventually, my father comes to get me, and we make the walk down to the beach. We continue walking towards a secluded section a good ways down the shoreline.

"This has to be one of the hardest things a dad has to do. It's not easy giving you away," my father says. He doesn't say it, but we are both thinking that this isn't the first time he's had to give me away. Saying goodbye after the reaping was a completely different situation, though. It was a literal giving away rather than a figurative one.

I know we both prefer the figurative kind.

As soon as I can make out the shapes of our guests in the distance, my dad steers me behind the sand dunes, so I will be concealed when we reach the site. I peer around the dunes and look at the scene.

We don't have very many guests, but that is to be expected from a semi-secretive private wedding. My family is there of course, and so is Kallan. There are just a handful of other family friends. Some chairs have been set up in the sand in two distinct sides, leaving enough room in the middle to form an aisle. A few plants adorn each side, and flower petals are scattered around.

At the end of the aisle is Alec. Instead of wearing one of the expensive suits from the Capitol, he's in nice dress clothes that don't seem out of place in District Four. It's light and airy and perfect for a beach wedding. I can't help but smile looking at him. My fiancé. Soon he will be my husband. Husband; I like the sound of it.

Everyone takes their seats and I feel my breathing spike. This is it. I remember again to take in the little details. It's early evening. The air is warm and the clouds at just starting to gain a rosy tint. The ocean gently swooshes in the background.

My father takes my hand again and slowly leads me out into the open. We make our way down the sandy aisle, and I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I glance around and smile nervously. Then I look down to the end of the aisle where Alec is waiting for me. Just these few steps separate us. Just these few steps to reach the place we will be pronounced husband and wife.

I give up on trying to memorize the exact way the bottom of my dress slides against the sand, or the expressions on each individual's face. I'm to focused on getting to Alec; to the end of the waiting. We finally make it, and my father hands me over to my soon-to-be husband.

Alec reaches out and grips both of my hands as we turn to face each other. I'm grinning up at him and he's smiling at me, and everything is right. This is perfect. All I can feel is happiness. After what we've both been through, it's a great feeling.

It takes me by surprise when someone drapes the grass net over both of our shoulders. I feel like it bounds us together in a way, separating us from everyone else here. Everyone outside is so distant. I step in a little closer to Alec, noting the way the sunlight creates highlights on his face. His eyes are so green and he has those little lines around his smile that I love so much.

We have a friend of my father's in charge of leading the ceremony. After the net is situated around us, he begins. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Alec Calder and Magnolia 'Mags' Brine. We'll begin with the traditional wedding song."

He leads the signing, and the others chime in from memory. The song seems as old as time itself, and it compares marriage to a voyage at sea. My eyes are still trained on Alec as I listen to the gentle rhythm of the melody.

_Take my hand and come with me_

_Today our journey starts_

_Our ship has finally been set free_

_Come aboard and head to sea_

_To the unknown we now depart_

_Piece by piece we put together_

_This ship we will now share_

_Built to last through any weather,_

_Meant to sail until forever_

_Bound by patience, born by care_

_Today we leave the sandy shore_

_In our tracks is all we've known_

_But there's so much to explore_

_New sights and pleasures, open doors_

_A brand new life to call our own_

_Gentle smiles kept content_

_The sun will shine through lazy days_

_But even sun cannot prevent_

_The windy storms that will torment_

_And form a cloudy haze_

_Winds will howl, masts will break,_

_It all becomes hard to take._

_But after sun has cleared the rain,_

_You'll find the joy outweighs the pain._

If that doesn't describe my life, I don't know what does. We are surrounded by pain, but moments like these make it all worth it and then some. Marriage will be the same way. Even though we are both young, I feel like we've come to learn a lot about life. I know we will make this work, regardless of any rough seas ahead.

I'm suddenly very eager for the rest of the ceremony, but I patiently listen to the rest of the song.

_A solemn vow, sincere, for sure_

_Will make this last forevermore._

_No matter how far we may roam,_

_The sea will always call us home._

_Take my hand and come with me_

_Today our journey starts_

_Our ship has finally been set free_

_Come aboard and head to sea_

_To the unknown we now depart_

_Our ship has finally been set free_

_Come aboard and head to sea_

The song comes to an end and all voices fall silent. The ceremony leader picks up from there.

"Marriage is a voyage only the most dedicated couples are fit to take. Only ships built with a strong foundation can pass the test. The most important building block is love. It is the strongest thing in this world, something that bounds us together no matter the circumstances. Today, this couple will be joined in the name of love as they prepare to take their own journey out to sea."

He pauses for a minute, then speaks to Alec. "Alec, are you prepared to take this voyage with Mags? To give her your complete dedication and remain by her side through sun and the storm?"

"I do," Alec says, his eyes still staring into mine, and the words make me feel so, so warm.

"Mags, are you prepared to take this voyage with Alec and remain by his side through sun and the storm?"

I have no trouble answering, "I do." As is traditional in Four, the ceremony holder speaks the vows the couple has prepared for each other while first the groom, then the bride repeat them. It's Alec's turn and I can't hear the older man at all. I know there are words coming out of his mouth, but it's all a blur, a smudge in the background. I want to remember exactly how these words sound coming from Alec.

"I, Alec, take you, Mags, to be my equal partner in life, today, tomorrow, and forever. I promise to help you through the hard times that lie in the future and heal over wounds from the past, to provide you the life you have always wanted, and to let you know you are never alone."

He's still looking at me, and I know each word is sincere. We altered the traditional vows because we aren't exactly in a traditional setting. There is a whole dark world we are forced to partake in, but these promises made right here, in the early evening on this beach, say that we will get through it together. That's what we need most as victors.

I can't stop my eyes from watering. There have been so many times that I've cried tears of devastation and pain. Tears of happiness is a completely different feeling. I'm so overwhelmed by the feeling of joy; by the realization that I'm getting the life I've always dreamed of after all, even if I had to go through a lot to get to this point. What could be more perfect?

The officiate addresses me next. "Mags, it's time for you to say the sacred vows."

He starts reading the words I have written, and I'm not surprised at all to find I can barely focus on them. Not that it matters, because I have these words memorized. I'm usually so bad at articulating what I want to say when things are emotional, but when I open my mouth, the words are miraculously right there. They slide out into the air, softly and easily.

"I, Mags, take you, Alec, to be my equal partner in life, today, tomorrow, and forever. I promise to guide you through rough times, to be there for you whenever you need a shoulder to lean on, and to let you be yourself and live your life based on your own decisions."

I smile when I'm done, happy tears still building up in my eyes. Alec gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and in it are the unspoken words _we're almost there. _

The ceremony leader leans down and brings over a metal bowl of saltwater taken from the sea. He clears his throat and explains the ancient tradition. "It is custom to seal the marriage with salt water. Salt binds us together through life, as it finds a place in sweat, tears, and the ocean that provides for us. This salt water will bind Alec and Mags with the power of the sea as they begin their lives together."

He holds out the shiny bowl for us and we each unlink a hand to dip two fingers into the cool liquid. I touch my fingers to Alec's lips, slowing guiding them over the top and the bottom as he does the same to me.

The ceremony leader's voice is joyous when he recites the next words. "I now declare you husband and wife! Alec, you may kiss the bride."

He cups my hands in his face and we finally separate the distance between us. I can taste the salt on his lips and I could not be any more happy. I'm barely even aware of the others gathered here for us. I'm here with my husband. My husband. 'Perfect' doesn't do enough justice to describe this moment.

When we finally pull away, I snuggle in as close as possible and lean against him. Our net is still draped around us.

"I'm so happy," I say with as much strength as I can.

"So am I," he says, and he looks out towards the sea. I follow his eyes to see what he sees. At first, I think he must be looking at our little crowd of guests who are cheering and have started to move around.

"We've had a lot of big days by the ocean, haven't we?" he asks.

I think about that for a second and nod. "First date and kiss, engagement, and now marriage."

It's true that the ocean has always been there as a constant, no matter how crazy life got. It always has been and always will be. I'm still thinking about this when Kallan comes up from behind and throws his buff arms around both of us, rustling the grass net.

"Well come on, happy couple! Keep standing here and you'll miss your own wedding reception."

Alec takes my hand and our group walks back down the beach, all the way to my family's house in Victor's Village. My mom and aunt have decorated the house with candlelight and flowers, and they cleared out the living room furniture to form a dance floor. On the table sits a two-layer homemade wedding cake.

The next few hours are filled with a lot of dancing and laughter. For me, it's all kind of a blur. Everyone stops to congratulate me and I dance with a few different people. Most of the time I spend in Alec's arms though, slowly swaying across the living room floor. When it's time to cut the cake, Alec can't resist the urge to smear the icing over my nose, which brings some laughs from the guests.

Kallan is by far the loudest one there, which I'm kind of grateful for because I haven't exactly been talkative tonight. I'm in some sort of content daze. When it's finally time to leave, Alec scoops me up bridal-style and carries us to the door. I do a last scan of the waving people in the room and catch sight of Marilla and Hallie getting seconds on the cake. I smile at Marilla and mouth a thank-you for being on her best behavior. She laughs and shakes her head slightly.

Once out the door, we walk through the warm darkness to our honeymoon location, also known as our house next door. The sensations are still overpowering: the warmth, the love, the happiness. I know as we step into his house and head upstairs that we are beginning our first of countless nights as a married couple. This isn't the first time I've gotten a new start in life, but it is the first time I've gotten to choose. And I couldn't be any happier with my choice.

The Capitol will find out eventually, I'm sure. They'll intrude on our lives as they always do, but that's a bridge we'll cross when we get there. Tonight belongs to us and only us.

* * *

It's been a few weeks since the wedding, and I am still in an overall delighted mood. I'll be perfectly happy if this feeling never ends. It's nine in the morning and Alec and I are laying in bed, both of us too lazy to get up and start the day. I'm more than okay with staying where I am now, curled up against my husband with my head on his shoulder. The word husband still makes my giddy. Even now, it brings a smile to my lips.

I feel Alec's hand against my back and I let my eyes close, only to open them a minute later when the phone lets out a shrill ring from across the room.

"Should we get that?" Alec asks.

"I say we let it ring," I comment, leaning back down into his shoulder and closing my eyes again. I'm grateful when the annoying ringing stops, but then it picks up again seconds later. After the third time, Alec finally pulls himself out of bed to get it.

I lay under the ruffled sheets and listen curiously. It's hard to tell what's going on. The only thing Alec contributes to the conversation is questions like "what time?" and "where is it?".

"What was that about?" I ask after he hangs up.

"They just finished building a career training school. Today's the orientation and apparently victors have to be there." He frowns. "I guess we better get ready to go."

"Great." I say unenthusiastically. I reluctantly pull myself out of our bed and head for the closet. I'm not sure how I missed the construction of an entire training school. It's not much of a surprise, though. I knew this day was coming for the past few years.

The skills used in daily life in Four gives tributes an upper hand even without formal training. I guess we are trying to get even with One and Two. That doesn't change the fact that I hate the idea of kids volunteering. I thought it was ridiculous from the beginning and I've really hated it since Kai volunteered. He shouldn't have even been a part of the Games that year. He would still be alive now.

The way I see it, training is okay if it's just for preparation. It's fine to be on the safe side if the reaping doesn't go in your favor. Making kids overconfident and encouraging volunteering is a completely different story.

We meet up with Kallan on the way there. He seems way more pumped up about this than I am.

"I say it's a good thing. I mean, who would you rather mentor? A poor little kid who everyone knows will be a bloodbath or someone who's trained for years? I'm telling you, Four will have a lot more victors because of this," he explains.

He does have a point, but I don't want to admit it. I just make a noncommittal sound in response.

The Career school is impossible to miss. It's tall and grey, and somehow it looks harsh and out-of-place compared to the rest of Four. We're just a humble little fishing village. This is a building that belongs in the Capitol.

Kids as young as seven or eight are running into the building, yelling with excitement. Most of the children are boys, though there are a good number of girls coming too. Which one of these kids will I be mentoring a few years down the road?

The three of us victors are led to the front of the room as a stern man makes a speech and introduces us. We aren't made to talk, but we do get a tour of the school after. There seems to be a room devoted to each type of weapon, and classes range from beginning level to expert.

It reminds me a little bit of the Training Center stations, except none of these classes are devoted to survival skills. It's all physical stuff; as long as you can yield a weapon, why worry about the rest? I think back to how I was more adept with using resources than actually fighting. This would not have been the place for me at all.

On our way back home, I spend a lot of time looking down at the pavement.

"You okay?" Alec asks in concern.

I look up and give him a weak smile. "Yeah. I just don't feel great about this new school. I guess Kallan had a point about it being a good thing. I just don't know."

"Look, we'll deal with that when we have to. We don't need to worry about the Games again for months, Mrs. Calder."

He knows how much my new name makes me smile. I don't ever have to willpower to be stressed about the training ordeal any longer. I'll hold onto my happiness for now, and I know that it's strong enough to take us a long way.


	28. Poison

**A/N: Yeah, I went MIA again for a few weeks, but I'm on Thanksgiving break now so I'm really going to try to make some progress. I'll go ahead and promise to update again this week so I will guilt-trap myself into doing so :) The good thing is I have some ideas for the next few chapters. Some things are going to happen that not everyone will be happy with, so just remember it's all part of the plan to build up to Finnick and Annie. Thanks for helping me get 100 reviews and y'all have a good day!**

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There's something scary about sudden changes. I've never been a fan of them, even on the smallest scale. It's not so much the concept of something new that frightens me; it's the uncertainty. Uncertainty hangs all over Panem right now. I can see it on the faces of concerned citizens and nervous television reporters. I can hear it in the hushed gossip that runs through the streets.

The Capitol has always kept everything in order with its cruel measures. The districts never even get the opportunity to be uncertain because they are on such a tight leash. Everything is decided for us. The orders are given and we listen. It's always been this way, so how are we supposed to hold ourselves together when even the Capitol is shaking? There have been too many changes too fast. Of course, everyone in the districts want change, but not like this. As of now there's no way to tell if it will be for better or worse.

I understand why. The last time we had a sudden change was when the Dark Days ended twenty years ago, and we all know how that worked out.

It all started about a month ago when old President Burns was found dead in his mansion. I didn't celebrate his death, but I would be lying if I said I felt bad for him. What really concerned me was what would come next. When Burns' son was sworn in the next day, all we could do is hope he would be a more fair leader than his father.

We never find out what kind of leader the younger Burns might have been.

I'm scrubbing dishes as yet another announcement roars over the TV. The loud buzzing has been invading the house so frequently lately that it's more an annoyance than a source of alarm. I figure it's probably another update on the investigation of Burns Sr.'s death.

"What is it this time?" I call out to Alec in the living room.

He doesn't respond for a minute. "Alec?" I ask.

"You might want to come see this, Mags," he answers, and something about his tone makes me nervous.

The reporter is talking so fast I can barely make sense of what he's saying. I look to the bottom of the screen and the headline makes me freeze.

It hasn't even been a month since Burns Jr. took office, and he's dead. From what I can gather, he dropped dead at a party last night, and it's suspected he had a heart condition no one knew about.

"Somehow I doubt that," I say, pulling my mouth into a tight line.

Alec nods in agreement. "I'm sure the doctors would've known if he did. Besides, the timing is almost too convenient."

We exchange a look, and I know we're both thinking the same thing. These kinds of coincidences don't just happen when it comes to the Capitol. Something is going on here, and there's no telling what might come out of it. I doubt we'll end up with a savior of a leader to help make things right when murder is involved already.

Both of us are quiet as we look at the list of potential presidents and listen to the speculation. It looks like one of Burns' nephews will be our next President. Well, assuming nothing happens to him…

There it is again. The uncertainty. Who knows where we'll be a year from now? I'm sure most of the districts are feeling anxious, and the Capitol is undoubtedly in chaos.

The last five years have been really good for me, besides the yearly trip to the Capitol. I've realized the reason I've been so content is that I haven't had to hear much about the Capitol. I get to live my life as normally as possible and focus on being a good wife and daughter and cousin. I don't want the Capitol's business interfering with my life now, placing stress where there shouldn't be.

The effects of anxiety must be working much faster than usual because I already have a funny feeling in my stomach. I watch the screen for a little longer, mostly because I feel obligated to know what's going on, but soon I've had enough.

"I think I'm going to go to bed. Can you let me know if something else happens?" I ask as I pull myself up from the sofa.

"Bed? We just got up an hour ago. Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. I'm just tired and I feel a little sick. I'll be fine after a nap," I answer, waving off his concern. Honestly, what I really need is to get away from this news coverage.

If only it were that easy to escape. I'm at the market two weeks later when the next major announcement comes.

The day starts off normally. Winter is approaching, and there's a slight chill in the air. My sweater doesn't stop a shiver from going up my spine whenever a gust of wind comes. I walk around the outdoor market, picking up different groceries and looking over the assortment of fish that are in season.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn around to see a woman about my age with a baby on her hip. "Excuse me," she begins nervously. "Do you know where the bread is?"

"Oh it's right over there. Can't miss it," I say, pointing in the general direction.

"Thank you," she says, her gaze drifting to where I'm pointing. She doesn't move.

I'm puzzled for a minute, but then she leans in closer and asks a different question. "I guess what I really came over here to ask you is if you have any idea…what's going on."

I have to hold back a sigh because I'm starting to get tired of people asking me this. A lot of people assume that just because I'm a victor, I must have some sort of inside scoop on what's happening in the Capitol. "No, I'm only hearing what's on the news."

The young woman looks disappointed. "Oh, sorry for bothering you. I just wish I knew what was going on. I need to worry about these things now, for her sake," she says, bouncing the baby girl on her hip.

"I understand. I would let you know if I knew anything," I say automatically, but most of my attention has gone to the baby. She peers up at me with innocent curiosity and I can't help smiling.

"Your daughter's adorable," I add.

"Thank you. She keeps me busy," she says, planting a kiss to the top of the infant's head. "She takes much more after my husband than me."

Now there's no stopping my mind from wondering what my child would look like if I had one. Would his or her hair be a warm, gold-tinted brown or shiny and dark? Would the baby's eyes be blue like mine or green like Alec's? The mental picture I have is so nice, and I wish it was real. I have to remind myself that Panem is going through a time of instability. I need to make sure I can take care of the family I have now, not think about adding any new members.

Still, it's a nice thing to imagine. And right now, I have a strong urge to reach my arms out and hold the baby that's in front of me. I literally want to take this stranger's baby and act like it is my own. Either I have a case of what my mother calls baby fever or I'm going a little crazy.

That's when the sirens come on. A loud voice instructs everyone outside to move to the closest TV viewing area a few hundred feet away. I reluctantly look away from the infant. "Looks like we're about to get some more answers," I tell the mother. Or maybe more questions.

As I walk through Town Square, I brace myself for whatever news awaits me. Alec is probably watching the same broadcast at home right now. I wonder if our suspicions will be right; if our newest president has been targeted just like his relatives.

I take one glance at the giant screen and I see it's true. This time, the culprit is food poisoning. An "accident". The contaminated food killed not only Burns' nephew, but also two of his political advisors who were on the list of potential successors. Even the news reporter looks frazzled from all the sudden deaths. His voice is shaky as he speculates who will take office next. I listen closely to the unfamiliar names: Avitus Cort, Augustus Henderson, Coriolanus Snow. None of the names mean anything to me.

I realize a little too late that I forgot my groceries back at the market, but I don't really care. I tug my sweater closer around me to protect from the chilly wind as I make my way back home. About halfway home, my stomach starts bothering me again, as it has been off and on for the past two weeks. I know a lot of people have been getting sick lately with this cooler weather. Whatever bug I have mixed with all this anxiety really isn't doing much good for my health.

By the time I made it back to Victor's Village and unlock the front door, I'm closing my eyes and breathing slowly through my nose to fight back a wave of nausea. I'm about to go straight upstairs to the bathroom when I hear Alec say, "So it looks like we're going to have a President Snow."

"They decided that already?" I ask in confusion. "I was listening to the news not even fifteen minutes ago and there were at least three choices."

They just got word that the other two are dead. All three of them drank out of a poisoned cup at the same party last night. Snow is the only survivor, and it's too short notice to find anyone else for the job."

"Wait a minute. If this Snow guy is the only survivor, then how do they know he wasn't the one who poisoned-"

Alec answers before I can finish asking. "He was targeted too. He drank out of the same cup. They have him in the hospital and he has some signs of poisoning. The only reason he isn't dead is because he didn't drink as much."

It's all a lot to take in. "Oh the things you miss when you don't watch the news for fifteen minutes," I say miserably as I join Alec on the sofa. I huddle against him and we watch the footage. They start interviewing a boy with pale blonde hair and I don't realize until his name comes on screen that I'm looking at our newest president.

"Isn't he a little young?" Alec asks. "Well he probably won't last much longer anyway," he says flatly. We're both tired of hearing about all of this, but we're worried, too, so we will keep watching.

"Yeah. Poor kid," I say. The words feel weird coming out of my mouth because I don't know whether I should feel sorry for him. For all I know, he could be guilty. On the other hand, he looks barely eighteen, just got poisoned, and has to take over a huge job that will most likely get him killed. I guess it's only fair to feel sorry for him since I have no reason not to.

The next day, Alec wakes up with a stomach bug too and we both spend the day in bed. We both have to take a few trips to the bathroom to throw up, but Alec looks like he feels worse than I do. My nausea comes in waves. I'll go from being fine, to sick, to fine again all within a few minutes. However, when the next morning rolls around, Alec's sickness has passed, and I'm still feeling horrible.

"Maybe you need to eat something," Alec suggests as he opens up the pantry, only to find it nearly empty.

"Oh, sorry, I kind of forgot to bring the groceries home the other day," I admit sheepishly.

"I'm not sure how you forget groceries at the market but okay. You get a pass because you're sick," he says, sounding more amused than mad.

He leaves a while later to pick up something for us to eat, and I try to follow his suggestion to get some more rest. I get restless before long though, and I keep wondering if I should see a doctor. Alec knows I haven't been feeling well, but I didn't tell him it had been going on for weeks. I don't want to make him worry over nothing, so maybe it's best I go by myself.

I find a piece of paper and scribble a note on it.

_I was feeling well enough to get up so I'm making a quick visit into town. I promise I'll be back soon. Love you._

I leave the note on the bed and grab my jacket before leaving the house. There are two doctors in District Four. One can be found in a small clinic that has limited medical supplies shipped in from the Capitol. The other is a woman working out of her home who usually prescribes herbs and things of that nature. The clinic is probably a better place to go, but it's connection to the Capitol makes me hesitant.

I have a personal connection with the apothecary woman anyway. She's the mother of one of my former tributes.

She answers the door shortly after I knock, and I'm greeted by her familiar smile and chestnut brown hair. Behind her happy expression, I can see the pain she's been carrying around the past few years.

"Hi, Mags. I didn't expect to see you today. Are you here for a medical reason or did you just come to talk?"

"Medical reason," I admit.

She nods and motions for me to follow her inside. She gets a sheet out of a cabinet and sprawls it over the round kitchen table. After I'm seated, she turns to me. "What's the problem, dear?"

"I've been feeling sick on and off lately. I know there's a bug going around, but my husband had it too and his was different. I'll feel nauseous really suddenly and it leaves just as quickly."

The nurse looks deep in thought. "Is there a certain time of day the sickness comes, like, say for instance, the morning?"

I think about that for a minute. "Yeah, I guess it is usually the morning or early afternoon."

She picks up a clipboard and scribbles something down. "Do you have any other symptoms?"

"Um, I guess I've been a little tired and achy lately. The nausea's the main thing, though," I answer unsurely.

Her next question takes me off guard. "When was the first day of your last menstrual cycle?" she asks slowly, her warm brown eyes trained on my face.

"Oh," I say. My mind starts racing and I try to trace back days unsuccessfully. "I…I don't know. I haven't exactly kept track…It's been a while. Do you think I'm…" I trail off and take a deep breath. "Are you saying I'm pregnant?"

The woman sets down her clipboard and puts her hand over mine. "I don't have the tests that could tell you for sure, but I'd say it's a strong possibility. If you want, I could maybe pick up a test from the clinic within the next few days, and then we'll be able to tell. Would you like that?"

I nod immediately. Of course I want to know for sure. "Okay, if you can come back in two or three days, I'll be sure to have it for you. Until then, why don't we keep this between us?" she smiles kindly.

"Okay," I say quietly. I'm still a little in shock. I've been thinking about babies lately, and never once did I consider I might already be carrying one. There's been so much going on lately to distract me from the obvious signs. I pull back the fabric of my shirt and look at my stomach. It looks flat as ever, but could there be someone inside?

I already came to the conclusion that this is a bad time to bring a child into this world. Honestly, there's never going to be a good time for me. For years, I've fought an indecisive battle. I always knew I wanted kids, but I always come up with excuses that make me question if it's a good idea. Time and time again I've convinced myself it's not, that I'm fine without any, but now things are different. Alec and I most likely have a baby on the way and I'm happy. So, so happy. Overjoyed, even. I don't have to make excuses or question anymore. The decision has been made and I can finally admit that it's the one I've wanted all along.

"Thank you," I tell the doctor, my grin stretching across my face.

"It's no problem. You look excited," she comments.

"I am," I reply, no hint of doubt in my voice.

Waiting the next two days is agonizing, but when I go back to take the test, I am relieved to see a faint red plus. Positive. I can barely restrain myself from excitedly telling Alec the second I walk back into the house. The only thing that stops me from doing so is that I want to come up with a more creative, memorable way.

I decide on knitting various baby items. I start on a hat, a blanket, and some booties, making sure to jump back and forth between them so they will all be finished at the same time. Alec watches me, occasionally making a sarcastic comment about me channeling my inner grandma with all the knitting. It's obvious he has no idea, and that makes me smile. I can't wait to see the look on his face once they are all done and he realizes.

I'm laying on the sofa, working with the cream colored yarn when there's a loud knocking at the front door.

"Who's that?" Alec calls from across the house.

"Probably just Marilla or Hallie. They haven't stopped by in a while," I answer. I walk over to the door, still in my pajamas, and peek out through the window. Instead of seeing my now grown-up younger cousins, I'm greeted with the sight of two white-clad peacekeepers.

I feel like I have a mini-heart attack. "Alec, there's peacekeepers at our door," I say, my voice high and panicky.

Alec's there in a second, and he somehow manages to stay collected. He opens the door slightly and I slink back behind him.

"What do you want?" my husband asks harshly.

"President Snow wants to meet with all the victors. Your train leaves in twenty minutes. If I were you, I'd pack for a long trip," a gruff voice says in response.

I don't want to go to the Capitol, especially not at a time like this. I thought the deal was I only had to endure all of that for one month a year. But we aren't exactly in a position to question when two peacekeepers have guns aimed inside our house.

Alec closes the door and curses under his breath before heading straight upstairs. I glance back at the unfinished baby items in the sofa. How long is this trip going to be? I don't want to tell Alec while we're in the Capitol with all the cameras around. Now is the only option. So much for the creative reveal.

I walk upstairs into our bedroom to find Alec hurriedly tossing piles of clothes into a large suitcase. The way he's storming around the room is more than enough indication that he's aggravated and stressed. Maybe I should be worried about this trip, too, but I'm more concerned about telling him about the baby at the moment. He's already aggravated. What if this untimely news just makes him mad?

I start to say something, but I chicken out and end up saying, "Those clothes are never going to fit in the suitcase if you don't fold them."

"You can fold them if you want. I'm trying to get us ready," he says without looking at me. He tosses some day clothes in my direction. I change and then sit cross legged on the bed behind the suitcase.

"Alec, I have something to tell you," I try.

"You'll have my full attention after we leave, Mags. We don't have time for this right now."

"But it's important. There's a big change coming soon," I say.

That gets his attention. "What do you mean?" he questions. I'm a little dumbfounded that he went from moving around so fast to stopping within a second. I guess I really haven't planned what exactly to say because I start rambling nervously and dancing around what I really need to say.

I see him glance back at the clock and I know he's itching to get back to packing. Man, how I wish I was better with words. "OhandbythewayI'mpregnant." I force the words out in a hurry, and they all smash together.

I watch his face carefully as he comprehends the words. All I see is shock. It's hard to tell what else might be going on in his head.

"You're pregnant?" he asks, and I nod. "That's why you've been sick?" Another nod.

"I know this isn't the best time to tell you this. I'm sorry. I hope you're not mad," I say softly.

He blinks in confusion. "Why would I be mad? I'm just surprised. There's already been a lot to take in this morning."

"Oh, good," I sigh in relief.

"You don't look happy," Alec notes.

"I am. I promise I am. This isn't exactly how I wanted to tell you, though." I look back up into his eyes. "Are you happy?" I ask.

He takes my hand and pulls me up to where I'm standing on my knees at the edge of the bed and presses his lips against mine. "If you're happy, I'm happy. You're right that it isn't the best time, but we're going to make this work."

I smile widely against the skin of his neck. Our moment is interrupted by more knocking at the door. "Must be time to leave," Alec says, his voice shifting back to irritated.

I zip up the suitcase and help Alec carry the luggage downstairs. The peacekeepers escort us to the train and we meet Kallan there. Neither Alec or I say anything about the big news. I spend a good portion of the train ride imagining what the future will be like with a new addition to the family. The closer we get to the Capitol, though, the more I have to start thinking about the political situation.

The truth is I know nothing about President Snow. Something about this trip makes me feel like his presidency will be more permanent than the last few. That makes me suspicious. Then I think of the frail kid I saw on TV and I can't imagine he would be behind all of these sudden deaths.

Why does he need to talk to all of us anyway? What is there to say unless something big is changing? If the change has to do with the Hunger Games, it would make sense to consult the victors. Another thing I haven't considered is why the peacekeepers suggested the trip would be long. The only thing I can think of is that they want to separate us victors from the districts. Why? I have no clue.

Every passing minute brings me closer to the Capitol and the young president. If change is going to come, let it be for the best. Best case scenario, the new president will turn things around for Panem and make things fair for once. It's extremely unlikely, maybe even improbable, but it doesn't hurt to hope.

That would be a sudden change I could live with.

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**Chapter 27 guest review reply:**

**Yippeeee: Aw thank you! Sorry this update took a while. I really hope you keep reading!**


	29. New

**A/N: This chapter was fun to type. There's still rocky roads in the future since things can't stay good for long in this world, but I thought Mags deserved more happy moments for now. Thanks to those who reviewed and I hope you like it! And whoa this chapter is longer than I meant to type it.**

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The lavish ballroom of the president's mansion is no unfamiliar place to me. My first trip here was eight years ago, right after I became a victor. Since then, I've returned every year to see each new victor crowned. I've grown used to the elaborate room, but this visit is different. This is the first time I've ever been alone in the giant room.

My footsteps echo eerily as I make my way toward the grand staircase that leads to the president's office. Every time I've attended a party here, the room has been full of dancing people talking so loud I can barely hear my own voice. I hear two other sets of footsteps echo and I remind myself that I'm technically not alone. For whatever reason, peacekeepers have been escorting me everywhere as if I am some sort of criminal.

They come to an abrupt stop at the staircase. I glance around unsurely but continue up, conscious of each step. I wish the new president could meet with all of us victors as a group. Instead, he made it very clear that each of us are to meet him individually.

I've barely knocked on the office door when it swings open. The first thing that hits me is the smell. There's some kind of sickly sweet perfume in the air that I know wasn't there the last time I came in this room.

"Please, come in," a voice tells me, and for the first time, I get a good look at President Snow.

The simplest way to put it is that he looks like a kid. He's about eighteen, barely old enough to be considered an adult, and he looks young at that. The boy in front of me doesn't seem particularly muscular or strong. He isn't much taller than me, and he is skinny and bony to the point of looking frail. How strange for someone who grew up surrounded by food in the Capitol. His blonde hair is almost as light as his pale skin. Somebody like him wouldn't last long in the Hunger Games against the stronger teens. It makes me wonder how someone so young and fragile looking managed to gain the highest title of power in Panem.

I quickly pinpoint the source of the too-sweet scent to be a small white rose on the lapel of his suit. No normal roses smell that strongly.

"I thought it would be best for me to talk with all the victors, since we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the years to come," he says as he takes a seat behind his massive desk. His voice sounds soft but intelligent. I'm not exactly sure what to say, so I just nod.

I can't wrap my mind around how the smell from that one little rose is so strong. I've been really sensitive to smells lately, as I've discovered it's one of the triggers to the morning sickness. I try to focus on breathing calmly through my mouth because I can't take the scent.

A few awkward moments of silence pass. What am I supposed to say? I don't even know why I'm here. Snow finally speaks up as he starts fiddling with a pen on the desk. "You know, I remember watching your Games. You got a lot of pity sponsors that year. Going in with your cousin, the headstrong volunteer. People eat that kind of stuff up. It made for interesting television." He looks up to take in my expression. I still don't know how I'm supposed to reply to that. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.

"I'm sure it did," I finally say. It's not saying much, but at least it will show that I'm not ignoring him. I don't want to come across as disrespectful.

"Since then, you've been an interesting one, haven't you? Comparatively, of course," he says, smiling as if remembering some inside joke, though I can't say I understand. I focus on my breathing as he pulls out a file with my name on it and browses through it, holding it to where I can't see.

"You value your privacy. I can tell you've tried to keep your way out of the spotlight. Not the easiest thing to do when you are in a relationship with another victor…hmm," he trails off, flipping through some pages. "You like being secretive, don't you?" he asks. His smile is unnerving.

"I just don't like the spotlight," I say nervously. His words instantly make me rethink everything I've done. I didn't think I broke any rules. My heart rate picks up as the fear creeps in.

"Don't worry," he says with a small laugh. He suddenly seems a lot older than eighteen. "I understand some secrets are for the best. It only concerns me when it could threaten the country. Being secretive with talk of rebellion, now that's dangerous. But you wouldn't do that, would you Mags?"

"Of course not," I answer immediately. It doesn't matter what deep dark opinions I have on the government. This is what he wants to hear; what he needs to hear.

"I would hope so…hmm, interesting," he says, still flipping through the file. "There's been a few little passing comments recorded here in the Capitol that have concerned me. I'm going to trust that this is nothing I'll have to worry about in the future," he says, staring in my direction. I notice how icy and piercing his eyes are. Behind his soft spoken words is a harsh command. I want to panic because this means I have made mistakes without realizing it. Whispered words spoken when I thought no one could hear…have those all been heard and filed to be used against me? If I agree, does that mean I get a fresh start? Oh, I really hope so.

"You won't have any problems from me," I say, trying to make my voice sound confident and convincing. It comes out sounding almost pleading, which, honestly, I guess it is. I know he can see the fear in my expression.

Now I'm starting to understand how Snow got in the political field. He doesn't look so helpless and frail now that I'm aware how easily he could ruin my life. Also, the way he speaks sounds very mature for his age, so unlike the bubbly Capitol voices I've grown accustomed to. I can't help but feel that I'm talking to someone much smarter than I am.

"Good, good. I can assure you that's for the best. Revolution and equality sounds good in theory, but history has shown it doesn't work out too well. Do you know anything about history, Mags?"

I shift in my chair. "You mean before the Dark Days?" I ask for clarification.

Snow shakes his head. "I mean before Panem."

They never told us about old history in school. Most of what I know comes from the speech Isidora gives at the reaping each year. "It used to be a place called North America. There were a lot of natural disasters and wars. It collapsed and Panem took over," I say.

The president gets up and walks to a bookcase on the side of the room. He grabs something and comes back to lay it across the desk. It's a map. "I was lucky enough to study ancient history. What they don't tell you is that the people destroyed the government. They called it a representative democracy. The idea was that the people had the power to decide what happens in the government. Sounds nice, doesn't it?" he asks.

I study the map carefully. It looks like Panem, but there are differences. The land mass is bigger, less rounded. There are lines dividing it into what looks like many, many districts.

Before I've answered his question, Snow speaks up again. "It doesn't work. You can't make everyone happy, and no one is content with what they have. Humans are greedy by nature. That's how wars break out. A nation can't exist where there is no control. Give them a taste of power and they'll tear down the whole system."

I try to visualize that. People arguing, wars starting. A government is ashes just like District Thirteen. I don't want to admit to myself that he might be right. That would feel like I'm throwing everything I stand for down the drain, even if I only hope for it in silence. Wait, that's the point of all of this. How can I be sure if that really happened in the past? For all I know, he could be making it up to sway my opinion. I still believe there has to be a better system than what we have now.

For now, it's important to be on board with whatever he says. "I never thought about it that way. You're right. There's no way everyone in Panem could agree if they had power," I say.

"I'm glad you see it my way," he tells me as he pats my hand, leaving goose bumps where his skin touches mine. "You see, it's important that things stay as they are. The districts are a little scared right now with all the unexpected deaths. Fear is good because it keeps control, but it's a fine balance. Too much fear might make some people have dangerous ideas. There always has to be a dash of hope. Don't worry, we're getting everything under control so nothing will happen. It's important you victors are on our side, as you know."

"I understand," I say with a nod. I inadvertently let myself get a big whiff of the rose smell, and the nauseous feeling is back full force. Please let this be almost over.

"You don't look like you feel so well. We've discussed everything that needs to be said. Go get some fresh air," he says.

"Thank you," I say quickly, making an escape to the door.

I'm walking out when Snow says, "Oh, and congratulations by the way. You must be so excited about the new addition."

After our conversation, there's no reason this should surprise me. Still, I can't help freezing in place and racking my brain to figure out how exactly he found out. There's only two people who know I'm pregnant: my doctor and Alec. I haven't said one word about it since we left District Four.

I look back at the president. "How did you know?" I ask before I can contemplate whether it is a good idea.

"You don't think I leave the districts unattended, do you? I have ways of finding things out, Mags. Keep that in mind." He looks at me with those icy eyes, and one word in particular comes to mind. _Snake. _

Nothing's going to get better. This new president feeds off of threats just like Burns did. If anything, he's more direct about it. I knew I wasn't safe in the Capitol, but now I have to accept the fact that I'm not safe in my own district. Maybe not even in my own house.

The peacekeepers are there to escort me back to the hotel as soon as I leave the office. Alec and Kallan, who both went visit the president earlier today, are there and are talking about something when I get back. Our room is really more of a suite designed after the Training Center. There's a living area and a bunch of small bedrooms meant to house several victors for the district. I realize that's what Kallan is talking about.

"I'm telling you, give it a few years and these rooms will be filled. Now the kids who started at the career school five years ago are almost old enough to volunteer. We were so close last year…" he says as he paces around the sofa. He's matured a little, but he still lives and breathes Hunger Games.

Alec is sitting on the sofa, and he pats the spot next to him for me to join when he sees me come in.

"How'd it go?" he asks.

"Fine." I don't want to go into the specifics. The only sure way to not make a mistake and say something wrong is to not speak at all.

"Oh, you'd better prepare yourself for prep work because we're going on TV later tonight," Kallan adds.

"Yeah, we got this paper," Alec says as he pulls something out his pocket and unfolds it. I look over it and see that it's a list of things to say and not to say during the broadcast. To put it simply, be happy and make the people happy. After all, all we are is the Capitol's personal promotional actors.

That's how the next few weeks go. We all notice that we're being kept on a tight leash since we have to be escorted everywhere and we can't leave on our own. However, they try to disguise it by bringing us all out to group activities. One night it's a dinner. Another night is another TV appearance followed by a party.

In twenty years of Hunger Games, there are eighteen victors. I remember one from Ten died the year after I won, and apparently there was another accident recently. I'm doubtful that there's even such a thing as accidents anymore. I don't voice my thoughts, but in the back of my mind lies the realization that victors don't have to be protected. Some have slipped up and have been punished in different ways, mostly involving their loved ones, so it makes me wonder what a victor would have to do to get themselves killed off. I don't think I want to ever find out.

By the time we get back to District Four, three weeks have passed. Whatever problems were going on in the districts must have been taken care of. The only difference I notice when we get back is that there are more peacekeepers than usual and a more rigid fishing schedule.

"I'm so glad to be back home. Maybe we can finally get a while to relax before we start telling everyone the news," I tell Alec as he unlocks the door to our house.

He opens the door slightly and says, "Might want to wait a little while for the relaxation thing."

"What?" I ask, peeking in. The house is much messier than we left it. I know this for a fact because I usually work hard to keep the house clean. There's stuff thrown all over the floor and dishes in the sink. Then there are the two sources of the mess: my cousins. Marilla is laying across the sofa and Hallie is sitting at the kitchen table snacking on bread.

Some things never change.

"Geez, thanks for making yourselves at home!" I say sarcastically.

"We didn't know how long you'd be gone, so we thought your house could use some house sitting," Marilla answers from the sofa. "You know, you really should've thought about this before you gave us the spare keys."

"Sorry, Mags. We were going to clean up before you got home. We thought it would be cool to live on our own for a few days because we're going to get our own place in a few months after I graduate," Hallie adds. She's come a long way from the ten year old little girl I knew when I was reaped. Her and Marilla look almost identical, but she seems softer and more girly than her sister.

"I guess there's no harm done," I sigh.

"There's worse things in life than a dirty house," Alec says. "Besides, it's something you'll have to get used to in the next few years." Marilla and Hallie look at us in confusion. "Now is as good a time as ever, don't you think?" he asks me.

"Yeah. Might as well," I say. "There's something we want to tell you," I say to the girls, only to notice Alec has taken a seat next to Marilla on the sofa. "I said we," I remind him.

"They're your cousins. I think they would want to hear it from you," he says smugly. I'm sure he knows that if only I say it, Marilla will jump all over it with her little comments that he finds so funny. Well played.

"Okay, fine. You get a pass this one time," I allow. "Well anyway, what I wanted to tell you guys is.." I pause because I'm suddenly thinking about how Snow knew already. Could the house be bugged? I look up at the ceiling for any wires I might have magically missed seeing over the years. What if everything I've ever said in this house has been recorded? Some of those things were really personal, and I would feel extremely violated if that's true. Well, they've never brought up anything I've said before.

"Are you going to finish or are you just going to stare at the ceiling?" Marilla asks, crossing her arms, and Hallie and Alec laugh.

"Shut up before you ruin the moment," I tell her.

"I'm saving the moment! You're the one looking up at nothing," she insists.

I shake my head and then continue. "I'm -no, we're- having a baby," I say, grateful that the words came out smoother than they did when I told Alec.

"Awww!" Hallie squeals and runs over to hug me.

"Nothing to say, Marilla?" I ask, genuinely surprised she hasn't burst out with some comment yet.

"Oh, I've been waiting for this. So many things to embarrass you with…you just wait," she smiles. "But, um, congratulations," she adds.

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We tell the others within the next few days, and after that, we go straight into making preparations. There's so much to do and I'm so excited. One of the guest bedrooms is transformed into a nursery and my aunt drops off a big box of baby clothes. A lot of them are girl's clothes, but there are some boy outfits that used to be for Kai.

I always thought that expecting mothers would have some sort of gut feeling on the gender of the baby. I've been having long vivid dreams, featuring a baby girl some nights and a boy others. It's a fifty-fifty toss up.

I start getting noticeably bigger around the six month point. The bigger the bump gets, the less I find myself going out around the district. I'm grateful that we work out a deal with Kallan so I can take a year off from mentoring. Eventually, I take to wearing Alec's clothes because they are big enough on me that they go over my belly without squeezing it.

Right now, I sit in a recliner we moved over from the living room and rest a hand on my stomach, eager to feel the next little movement.

"Alec, have you thought about any ideas for names?" I ask. He's moving furniture around, and I feel kind of bad about sitting here doing nothing, not that I would be able to help much.

He's breathing a little heavy from exhaustion when he answers. "I tried but I couldn't think of much. All I came up with was my dad's name."

"What was his name again?" I ask. It would be nice to have some connection to Alec's family.

"Kyle," he answers.

"Kyle," I say, testing the name out. "I like it. It's nice and simple."

"Did you have any ideas?" Alec asks.

I feel a little nudge inside of me and I rest my hand there as I answer. "Well there was a book I read a long time ago where the main character's name was Destin, and it stuck with me. It was a boy in the book but I think the name works for a girl too. I was even thinking it could be spelled with an 'a' or an 'o' instead of an 'i' for a boy."

"It sounds like you've thought about it a lot," Alec notes.

"Yeah, I guess I have. I'm leaning towards Destin Lana for a girl. I was considering the different spelling for a boy, but I like the name Kyle too so I don't know."

"You can always go with Destan Kyle," he says.

I nod. "Or Kyle Destan."

I play around with different names and variations in my head over the next couple months. The closer I get to the due date, the more anxious I get. I learn there's a difference between being pregnant and _very _pregnant. 'Pregnant' isn't all that bad once you get past the morning sickness stage. It's new and different and exciting to track the changes week by week.

'Very pregnant' is a completely different story. I feel uncomfortable and it's a struggle to accomplish even the easiest tasks, such as pulling myself out of bed. The bigger I get, the more pressure I feel on my back and in my feet. I'm so beyond ready to have the baby out of me and in my arms.

I'm so ready, yet I'm absolutely terrified when I feel the first few contractions. They come while I'm walking to the bedroom around 11:30 at night. The tightening feeling is so sharp and so sudden that I instinctively double over and lean against the wall. I've been waiting for this moment for weeks and now I'm scared because I know the pain is only going to get worse.

"Alec, help!" I call out.

He's there in an instant. "What's wrong? Is the baby coming?" he asks, looking way more scared than I feel.

"Yeah. It's definitely time," I tell him. He steadies me and slowly walks me over to one of the other bedrooms, which is difficult when you feel as big as a house. I feel another contraction, this time tighter than the last, and I grit my teeth in pain.

I'm barely aware that Alec's on the phone. I try to focus in just enough to hear that he's calling the doctor. It takes me a full minute to realize that since he's using the phone, he has to be calling the clinic. The apothecary woman who has been checking up on me doesn't have a phone.

"No, you have the wrong doctor!" I say, louder than I intended.

"You think I'm going to leave you here to go knock at the other woman's door? Not a good idea, Mags."

His words make sense, but I'm in pain and scared and all I can think is that I don't trust the people from the clinic. They have way too many connections to the Capitol.

"I. Want. The. Other. Doctor." I struggle to keep my voice level.

"How am I supposed to-"

"I don't know! Please just do it!" Another contraction.

Alec paces around the room and finally picks up the phone and calls my parents. My mother arrives within minutes along with the rest of my extended family, and my father comes a little later with the nurse.

The nurse kicks the others out of the room and inspects me, only to say it could be several more hours until I'm ready for delivery. She drapes the blanket back over me and goes downstairs to fix some kind of herbal tonic to help ease the pain.

The bedroom turns into a visiting area again. I'm glad they are here to support me, but I'm really not in the best of moods right now. I don't feel like being talked to or touched. Hallie lays on the bed, pressed up against my shoulder, and my mother smoothes back my hair.

"I know it hurts. It's going to be so worth it though," my mother tells me.

"I just want it to end. Hurt doesn't even begin to describe it," I respond weakly.

"Listen, Mags. You're strong enough. This is a natural part of life. You've survived through much worse," she reminds me.

It's true. I have. The difference is this is a different kind of pain. Emotional pain is horrible, and I'm no stranger to the way it can eat away at you. I've overcome a lot, but it's done nothing to prepare me for this physical pain.

The next several hours are excruciating. The herbs don't do much because they are nothing compared to Capitol medicine. It feels like someone is scooping together my insides and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until it should be impossible to get any tighter. But it does. By the time dawn breaks through the window, I have beads of sweat on my forehead and I feel like crying. I've been gripping Alec's hand so hard that I'm afraid my nails are leaving marks in his skin. I feel even worse after I unthinkingly scream at Marilla for some harmless joke.

Let it end, let it end.

Eventually, it does. After I'm declared ready, everyone besides my husband are shooed out of the room. The contractions come to a climax in the greatest pain I have ever experienced, but then it is suddenly over, and I feel suddenly empty. A cry pierces into the room. My child's cry.

I'm almost too exhausted to move, but I pull myself up and desperately try to get a glimpse of my baby.

The nurse looks over to me and smiles. "Congratulations. It's a boy."

The world is quiet. There's no room for sounds here. Nothing can distract from this peace. As the nurse sets my son into my arms, I am in too much of a hushed awe to speak. This is perfection. Has there ever been another meaning of the word?

His eyes look around hurriedly, trying to make sense of this strange place he has arrived in. Then he looks at me with eyes the usual hazy gray color of newborns, and his cries begin to taper off. Little does he know he has no reason to cry because I will keep him safe. Always. He's mine and I love him and nothing else matters. I run my fingers through the soft brown down of hair on his little head and count each little digit on his hands and toes. His body is so tiny and fragile, but I know I won't hurt him. I hug him close and kiss his head.

After all those painful hours of labor, it's now I cry. It's the good kind of crying, though. Silent tears run down my cheeks because there is too much emotion to keep in.

I look to Alec, who is just inches away. "He's perfect," I whisper.

"Just like his mother. Look, he even looks like you," he says.

It's really too early to tell who he looks like because his face is still flushed from the womb, but his words make me smile nonetheless.

"What's his name?" the nurse asks from across the room.

I look at Alec and nod to let him know he can tell her. My attention snaps back to the little person in my arms. I watch him as yawns.

"Destan. His full name is Destan Kyle Calder," Alec tells the woman.

"How sweet. I'll give the three of you some time alone. Take as long as you need," she says.

Our first moments alone as a family. I want to lock this moment away and remember it forever. I start noting things just like I did on my wedding day. I can hear the chirping of seagulls outside the window. The room is warm and Alec's hand on my arm is cool. My son's eyelashes flutter as he goes to sleep. I feel the subtle flex of his little fingers as he moves his hand. My heart feels swollen with emotion.

The world is still quiet, and I won't complain if it stays this way forever. I have everything I need right here.

This is the only thing that matters.

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**As you can probably tell if you've read this far, I like writing cutesy things. Thoughts or predictions? :)**


	30. Quarter

**A/N: I can't believe it's been almost six months since I started this story! Wow, it doesn't feel like December at all. Anyway, I hope y'all like this update. The actual arena part of the 25****th**** games will be next chapter. Sorry it seems rushed, but we've already gone through two whole games so I don't want it to be too repetitive. It's more about just seeing the outcome because it will lead to some other major events. I know that doesn't make sense yet, but it will soon… Reviews are always welcome :)**

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There are some things that can't be understood until you experience it. A parent's love for their child falls under that category. I never had a doubt in my mind that I would love my child or that unconditional love exists. I've learned there are many types of love, and the feelings that go along with each can't always be put into words. They have to be felt because descriptions do no justice.

I already knew the distinction between my love for my family and my husband. Having a baby opened up another window inside me that I didn't even realize was there. I would do anything for my son. I don't know how to put it any other way. Devotion, pride, adoration. Which word fits? When I see him, I see purity and innocence. I see what the world should be, and I want nothing more than to take him away from all of this and shield him forever. I'm so grateful that he's still too young to know the truth.

I can't believe it's been nearly four years since Destan came into my life. He's growing up too fast for my liking, so I make sure to spend as much time with him as possible. It's a good thing that neither Alec or I have to work to support ourselves. Keeping up with Destan is a full time job, anyway. It's all worth it, though. He deserves to have a good childhood.

So far, Destan has had as normal a life as we could possibly give him. His favorite color is red and he can count to ten. He loves going out on the boat with Alec. The only places he knows are Victor's Village and the beach. He likes to play in the sand and jump and climb. No matter what he's doing, he always, always finds a way to make a mess. Sometimes it drives me crazy. I wasn't very happy when I found permanent marker drawn all across the wood floors, but then I realized I couldn't stay mad at my son for long. I'm still going to love him no matter what he does.

Being a mom isn't easy, but it's gratifying. There's something about it that feels like the most natural thing in the world. It's nice take care of the ones you care about the most.

"Destan, what do you want for supper?" I ask, poking my head out of the kitchen into the living room where he is playing. I get a little panicky when I see he's balanced on the back of the sofa, wobbling as if he might fall any second. "Destan Kyle, what did I tell you about that? No climbing up there!" I say, scooping him off the back and bringing him gently down to the floor.

"But it's part of the game. I'm being a fishingman," he says, holding up a rope. Lately, his new obsession has been the fisherman that always line the docks of Four. "Look, there's the fishes," he explains, pointing to toys scattered on the floor.

I kneel down to his level. "Okay, but maybe you can fish from the floor instead. I don't want you getting hurt," I tell him.

"I can't fish in the water, Mama. Now we're both in the water," he says with a frown. I look around the room and try to picture it from his point of view. The wood floors make up a vast sea filled with fish and the sofa is a sturdy boat.

"Well then we'd better get back on the ship," I say. I take his hand and we both head back to the sofa a pull our legs up off the ground. "What next, Captain Destan?" I ask.

The makes him smile widely, and I'm taken aback again by how perfect he is. He's a mess, but he's mine, and I wouldn't want him any other way.

I drape the rope down to the floor and play along with his imaginary scenarios. After we're attacked by a sea monster, I dramatically fall over off the sofa. "Oh no! I'm going overboard!"

Destan giggles a bit at that. "Me too!" he says, his expression stunned as if he's in shock, but once he's on the ground, he's rolling over laughing.

"That's enough of that, Captain. Time for supper," I remind him.

"Where's Daddy?" he asks. He gets up and walks around the room, looking behind curtains as if Alec might be hiding there.

"He went pick up something from Uncle Kallan. He'll be back soon."

As if on cue, the doorknob turns and we hear the squeak of the door opening as Alec comes in. Destan runs to him immediately and holds onto his legs.

"Hey there little guy. Look what I got for you," he says as he pulls out a faded red hat from behind his back. I love watching the two of them together. I think Destan looks like his father. Of course, his face still has baby roundness, so it's a different shape than Alec's, but I can see similarities in their expressions. He got green eyes from Alec's side, too, although his are a different shade of green than his father's. They are a little lighter; nearly the same shade as the water where the ocean meets the shore. Alec says it's the same green he used to see in his mother and half-brother's eyes.

I watch as my child pulls the hat over his face. It's much too big for him and it falls down to his nose, but it's obvious he loves it. He starts telling Alec about our game in a series of reenactments.

"It sounds like you two did a lot in the past hour," Alec says.

I nod. "Yep, I got attacked by a sea monster and fell overboard today. I'm pretty exhausted." I look around at the mess that's still on the floor and realize I don't feel like cleaning it up. A clean house is a lost cause with a three and a half year old around.

Destan continues with his game because he apparently has boundless energy that us adults don't have. I curl up on the sofa next to my husband and study his expression. He's staring across the room and I know that look on his face. I can tell he's thinking about something and he doesn't want me to be able to tell what it is.

I brush my fingers lightly over his arm. "What's going on?" I ask.

"It's probably nothing. Kallan heard there's going to be something on TV tonight," he says, still staring across the room.

"About what?" I glance back at Destan quickly to make sure he's not listening. "Did something happen to one of the victors? Another 'accident'?"

"No, I don't think so. Kallan thinks it's something about the Games."

"Oh," I say. I'm not sure what to make of that. "I don't understand. They never made an announcement before."

"Look, don't worry about it. The Games aren't for another two months, anyway. They're probably just changing gamemakers or something," he says to calm me.

We speculate quietly though dinner and the rest of the evening until the TV switches itself on. Destan pushes the hat up out of his eyes and points at the screen. "Ha, look! That man is green!"

I can't focus on Nathaniel Flickerman because I don't want Destan hearing this. He doesn't know anything about the Hunger Games and I don't want him to start asking questions yet. "Come on, Captain. Time for bed," I say.

His gaze shifts from the screen and he looks up at me, his little brow furrowed in confusion. "No it's not. It's early" he says.

"Nope, it just got late. Remember that story of the spirit of the sea? You know, the one who takes little boys who don't go to sleep on time? Time for bed," I say.

"But I'm not tired," he pouts.

"Come on," I say, lifting him up and carrying him to his room. I pull the red hat off and smooth his ruffled brown hair. After I've tucked him in and put pillows around the bed so he doesn't fall off, I kiss his forehead and turn out the light. As soon as I've closed the door, I speed back downstairs before I can miss anything else. "What did I miss?" I ask, out of breathe.

"Not too much. Snow's coming on now," he answers.

Sure enough, the young president is on the screen. "Can you believe it? It's been twenty-five years since the Dark Days ended and this new era began. Twenty-five years of peace and order kept stable by the annual Hunger Games. This year, we celebrate the past and protect the future," he begins. Alec and I share an expression of distaste, but we don't say anything.

Snow continues on. "As time passes, new generations are born. The adults of today were very young when all of this began. We've grown up with the Hunger Games, but not all of us were there to see what led to them. What about fifty years from now? One hundred? How will we preserve the meaning behind the Hunger Games so that the future citizens of Panem remember why they are necessary?"

"Where is he going with this? Alec asks, and I shrug.

"We need to be reminded. Twenty-five years ago, crimes were committed by the rebels. Crimes so harsh, it's painful to remember. But we must, and the districts must continue to pay penance for these crimes. To keep the memory fresh in the minds of generations to come, each twenty-five years will be marked by a Quarter Quell. For each Quell, there will be a special twist added to the Hunger Games. That brings us to where we are today. Please bring the box."

Wonderful. A twist to make the Hunger Games more horrifying than they already are. I don't remember anyone mentioning this. I try to think back to that hazy childhood memory of the first Games announcement that has stuck with me all these years. I'm almost positive no one said anything about a Quarter Quell. Yet, when a small boy carries the box over to the president, it's filled with rows upon rows of cards. Decades, no centuries of Hunger Games. Never-ending.

I squeeze Alec's hand and try to control my breathing. Snow is taking forever to take the card out of the envelope, dragging it out to the point of being painful. Whatever is printed on the card is going to affect me and my family in some way.

He finally gets a hold of the card. "Now, on the twenty-fifth anniversary, to remind the rebels that their children died because of their choice to initiate violence, each district will hold an election and vote on the tributes who will represent them in this year's Hunger Games." He pauses to let it sink in. "Also, because of the nature of this year's theme, no volunteers will be accepted." He smiles after the words are out and his lips look puffier than I remember. It's sickening that he takes joy from this.

Having districts vote on the kids that will be sent to their death is revolting all on it's own. Yet, I feel a little relief. It may be a selfish, but my natural reaction is to be glad that it won't hurt me or my loved ones in any way. For once, I'm glad Four is a career district. There are already kids who want to be sent to the Games, so no feelings will be hurt. They get what they want, and the reaping will probably end up the same as it would have without the twist.

As for the poor districts…this news will hit them hard.

"Everyone should know to vote for the careers," I say. My tone isn't happy, but I'm not distraught either.

"Yeah. I think the school has a few eighteen year olds now that were going to volunteer anyway. They have no idea what they're getting themselves into but that's not our problem," he responds.

"It kind of is. We have to mentor them," I say softly. It occurs to me again how long it's been since we've had a victor. Our tributes made it to the final four the last three years in a row, but something always stood in the way of one of them being crowed victor.

Maybe this year will be different. The career school has been open for almost ten years. Most kids start around age eight, so the ones who have been training from the beginning are at the perfect age now.

The election is held a few days before the reaping. I do some research and find out that I will be mentoring a girl named Saphira. She's tall and athletic and skilled with a whip. So when I go along with all the other adults in District Four to cast my vote, there's no question in my mind whose name I will be writing.

It's an unwelcome surprise when I learn I have to reconsider everything seconds before voting.

Alec and I are right behind the mayor in line when he turns to talk to us. "Got your votes ready, victors?" he asks. He's always seemed nice enough, and I think he's become more mellow as he's aged.

"Sure do. We're voting for Eloy and Saphira," Alec answers him.

"Saphira?" the mayor asks, his expression one of disapproval. "Why, didn't you hear the news?"

"What news?" I ask.

"The girl just found out she's pregnant. We can't send her to the arena like that," he explains.

I'm a little aggravated that I'm just learning this now because I thought I actually had things planned out for once. "Who are we supposed to vote for, then?" I ask, not doing a great job of hiding my dissatisfaction.

"From what I hear everyone's going with Raini Vala," he says. I've learned not to trust gossip and I don't remember anyone named Raini being in the oldest age group, but I don't know what else to do. It's too late to research anymore. Soon I'm called into the tiny voting room that is stocked heavily with peacekeepers. After I write the boy's name, I stand there with the pen clutched in my hand, still unsure on which girl name to write.

"Hurry up," a peacekeeper growls and gives me a firm shove. Alec would probably overreact if he saw that, but I choose to ignore it. Writing down a pregnant girl's name would be unforgivable, and I can especially sympathize with her since I'm a mother myself. That leaves me no choice but to write Raini Vala. I place the ink to the paper and write the name slowly and neatly. She's a career, so she should be expecting this, right?

Apparently not.

When Isidora pulls the slip out of the reaping ball and reads Raini's name, I see a girl in the sixteen-year-old section jump in surprise. She looks around in panicked confusion before her face sets into a cold, unreadable expression. I watch her carefully as she walks up to the stage. She has auburn hair and she's thin but well built. With each passing minute, I can see more and more anger seeping into her expression. I'm pretty sure she's glaring at someone in the crowd.

Her male counterpart is Eloy Wasson, just as expected. He looks almost relaxed as he stares out into the crowd. I've seen him training and I think he stands a decent chance. One thing that caught my attention about him is that he isn't a show-off like some careers. Strong, yes. Lethal, yes. But he's dignified at the same time. I'm glad we have someone mature representing us.

As usual, we have some time before we have to leave. Alec takes Destan out on the boat while I pack some suitcases. I write a few notes for my parents since they will be here babysitting for the next month. It's always so hard for me to leave Destan to go on these trips. When he was a baby, he couldn't question it, but now he's at the age where he wants an explanation for everything. Most of his questions involve the word "why", and I don't always have an answer. He's going to want to know why we're leaving again and I'll have to lie.

In some cases, lying is better. He'll know the truth when he's older, and by then he'll realize ignorance is bliss. I know he'll be safe while we're gone because he always is. It's just so hard knowing I'm too far away to protect him if something were to happen.

"Be good for Granny and Pawpaw. We'll be back before you know it and we'll be thinking about you the whole time because we love you," I tell Destan when they get back.

"Why do you go then? I don't want you to," he frowns. It hurts my heart.

"We have to, baby. I promise we'll come back," I say.

"If I be good will you stay? Please?" he says in the most innocent voice ever. I feel awful.

"It's nothing you did, little man. It's just something we have to do," Alec says.

My parents arrive and I have to hand him over. I can hear him crying as we walk away, and every instinct I have tells me to go back there are comfort him. I stop after a few feet and start to turn around. "I'm just going to be a minute," I say.

"Mags, that's not going to help. He'll be okay. You have to let go, at least for a little while," Alec says, holding my arm to stop me from going back. I sigh miserably in defeat.

I at least try to look positive when we go to meet the tributes. I'm almost certain it's Alec's turn to mentor, but there's no way Kallan is missing out on the Quarter Quell. Both of them go to greet Eloy. Surely they'll work out the mentoring plan on their own. There's no question that I'll be the one mentoring the girl. As the others exit the room to take a tour of the train, I approach my tribute.

"Hey, Raini. I'm Mags and I'll be mentoring you," I start my standard greeting. Before I can go any further, the auburn haired girl stops me with a question.

"Did you vote for me?" she asks bluntly. There's no hint of shyness in her voice.

I think back to her shocked expression when her name was called and I feel instantly guilty. "I was told that was the plan," I reluctantly admit.

She must take my answer as an indication to not trust me because her blank look is replaced with a glare. "I'm not supposed to be here, you know. It should have been Saphira."

"Saphira's expecting a child. It wouldn't be right to send a pregnant girl here," I say gently.

"Yeah, sure. She's not even pregnant. She made that crap up," she snorts and walks away from me.

I follow her. "How would you know that?" I ask. I'm thinking Raini is probably just in denial, but her claim catches my attention.

She spins around so fast it startles me. "Because poor Saphira is always the victim! She wanted the spotlight during training, but oh, once she found out she was getting picked it was excuse after excuse. She's too in love to leave her boyfriend one day and the next she has an ankle injury. Always something! Guess she saw the only way to get out of it was something extreme, so she claimed to be pregnant. Just watch, a few months from now she's going to tragically lose the kid that never existed!" Her voice escalates until she's nearly screaming.

I start trying to calm her, but she's not done. "And then they picked me! Let's all ignore the fact that there are girls older than me who have trained longer. Oh wait, we can pick someone to die? Why not Raini? It's not like-"

"Whoa, hold on a minute. Calm down. I'm sure people only picked you because they felt like you could survive. You're a career. Shouldn't that be a compliment to you that people think you're stronger than the older girls?" I say reassuringly.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me, since you voted for me and all," she snaps. Obviously, it's not a literal question.

"Look, I'm sorry you're in this situation. I know it sucks, but you have to realize this isn't my fault. I'm trying to help you, and it will be much easier to get you out of that arena if you cooperate with me, " I tell her.

"You must not be too much help since no one's won since you," she mumbles.

Ouch. That stings. I'm tempted to go into defensive mode, but I have to remind myself that I'm almost twice this girl's age. I hold back my comment about her playing victim and decide to be mature. "You don't have to accept my help. I'm going to try anyway," I say flatly.

The others come back from their tour, saving me from any further argument.

Isidora bounces into view, "I thought I heard screaming? There's no reason for anyone to be unhappy. This is a glorious experience and such an honor to take part in the first ever Quarter Quell. Come on, let's eat!" she announces. She must be in her late forties by now, but she has remarkably avoided aging the past thirteen years. The only difference I can tell is her makeup is thicker and I suspect she's had a few alterations.

Alec and Kallan find her annoying, but I mainly think she's funny. Unintentionally funny, but still funny. I know she means well, so I don't mind talking to her about things as long as they aren't too personal.

"This should be a fun year," I say sarcastically.

"What, the girl? Oh, that's just how some teenage girls are! My niece is the same way," she brushes off my concern.

For a minute I'm glad I won't have to deal with a teenage daughter. The terrible twos with my son were bad enough. Regardless of that, looking after teenage girls isn't a new thing for me. Some aren't so bad, while others are almost impossible to deal with. Raini falls under the latter category.

Every morning, I have to drag her out of her bed as she clings onto the frame and refuses to budge. At every meal, she sits at the table in silence with her arms crossed. It isn't until we all get up that she will grab food and run back to her room. I get complaints from Lilith and the prep team on her noncompliance. Before training, I spend thirty minutes going over a strategy I have for her. As soon as I'm done talking, she says, "I'll do what I want," and walks out. Two out of the three days, I find out she's ditched training after lunch.

She is impossible. It takes all of my strength to put up with her. The only person she somewhat responds to is Kallan. I consider handing her over to him and calling it a day, but I haven't given up on a tribute yet, and I don't plan to. If someone were in charge of Destan's survival, I would want them to do their best no matter how hard he was to deal with. Raini might not appreciate me reaching out, but at least her parents will. I don't even fully understand what her problem is. If she never wanted to go to the Games, why did she sign up for the career school? One thing's for sure: I'm not getting any answers out of her.

The only time I see something beneath the rebellious exterior is when training scores are announced. I don't know what to expect because she wouldn't tell us what she did for the gamemakers. When a nine flashes across the screen, her whole expression lightens and she looks like a kid who just woke up on the morning of her birthday. We all congratulate her, and we even get a half-hearted "thanks" in return.

Not the biggest accomplishment, but progress is progress. Soon it will be time to see this year's arena, and there's really no telling what it may be. Odds are it will be worse than usual to make the Quarter Quell unforgettable. That's not something I'm looking forward to, but the sooner this is over with, the sooner I can get back to my life.

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Imhungergames: I'm not sure if you are to this chapter yet but thank you so much for reviewing! :)


	31. Cavern

**A/N: I hope everyone had an amazing Christmas! When I typed this chapter, it came out ridiculously long so I had to split it up. I really wanted it to all fit in one chapter so I could move on with the story but oh well.**

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"Come on, Raini. Four hours is all I'm asking for. You have to get up," I say for about the thousandth time to the lump under the covers. No reply. Of course not.

I sigh and pull the blanket back from over her. This has become a familiar routine. I reach for her legs to pull her out the bed as she clutches the bed frame and tries to kick me.

"I can't help you practice for your interview if you don't work with me," I tell her, my voice coming out in a growl. I've tried so hard to be patient and I think I'm a pretty patient person, but this kid is working my last nerve.

"Practice what? It's common sense," she says in a sleepy mumble. Her hands are still wrapped around the frame of the bed. Above them are scratches in the wood from every other morning she has done this the past week.

I release my grip on her and fold my arms. "You don't realize how important this is. There are sponsors out there, and the only way they're going to pay money to help you survive is if you give them a reason to. What do you plan on doing? Ditching like you did for training? That's not going to work this time. You need an angle."

I wait for her to respond and get nothing in return. For a second, I consider trying to pull her out of bed again. Then I decide I'm better off just talking to her like this. She's going to get the lesson one way or another.

"Everyone goes by an angle that represents their strategy in the Games. Some common ones are resourceful, strong, brave, sweet…"

"Would you just shut up? I didn't ask for a lecture," Raini hisses.

"No, I'm not stopping." I can't help but feel a little smug as I continue. "Anyway, I think you could pull off fierce. The thing I'm most worried about is you ignoring the questions. That's not going to go over well. Just try to answer all the questions and don't let them know how much you don't want to be here. Since you're a career, it's best they at least think you wanted to be part of the Hunger Games."

Her head snaps up so fast it startles me. She glares at me with piercing eyes. "Who said I didn't want to be part of the Games?" she demands.

"That's just kind of what I assumed since you've been moping around the whole time. And since you told me on the first day that you're not the one who should be here," I defend myself.

Raini finally pulls herself up and folds her arms across her lean frame as she shakes her head. "Well of course I'm not the one who's supposed to be here. That doesn't mean I didn't want to be in the Games."

"I don't understand," I say honestly. I want to ask her more, but I don't want to push my luck and end up making her shut down again.

"I wasn't just wasting my life in the career school. I wanted to volunteer for the Games at my last reaping. It would be MY decision and I wouldn't have to listen to what anyone else thinks. But you know what? I didn't get to choose. They sent me in just because they don't like me."

I rest my hand on hers in sympathy out of force of habit. I'm reminded not to do that when she bats my hand away. "Raini, I'm sure they sent you in because they thought you would be the best. They probably knew you wanted to volunteer eventually."

She stiffens and looks at me again with distrustful eyes. "Don't act like you believe that. I know you don't like me, either."

"I know we've had some issues," I begin again. She cuts me off before I get very far.

"That reaping was the biggest 'screw you' they could have given me," she groans and slides the covers back over her.

"Then the only thing to do is return the favor. Go on and win. Go back and show them they can't get rid of you. You can rub it in their faces if you want. So let's get up and practice some interview questions so we can make that happen," I say.

I hear a muffled laugh from under the covers. She pokes out from under the blanket just enough for me to see her messy auburn hair. "Nice try. Still not practicing those questions, though. And just so you know, winning was already the plan."

Surprisingly, that doesn't bother me as much as it should. Sure, she's still not complying, but at least I know she won't just completely give up on life in the arena. Someone as fiery as her has to stand a chance.

Regardless of this, I still try posing some questions over the next few hours. As expected, I don't get much in return. By the end, all I have gotten out of it is a shaky, questionable agreement that she will try to answer the questions asked of her. How she will answer them is probably a completely different battle. I try not to dwell on that.

The rest of the day goes basically as expected. A normal day for our dysfunctional family. There's some screeching and crying from Isidora, complaints from Lilith, and a high heel lodged in the living room TV after Raini slings it off her foot. Okay, not so normal, but still not unexpected.

After hours of styling, Lilith returns Raini to me. The same scowl adorns both their faces. "This girl will be the death of us. She's your problem now," Lilith spits as she pushes the tribute back over to me. She pushes her thick-rimmed glasses back up her aging face and stomps out the room.

Raini huffs. "I hate her. I swear, if her or one of those other colored freaks try to touch me one more time, I'm gonna-"

"Stop. It's over," I tell her. I look over the outfit Lilith saddled her in. It's a fitted shimmering red dress, complete with matching sparkly red heels. Her auburn locks are pulled up except for two strands that fall on each side of her face. Her makeup has been done to soften her cheeks and give the illusion of a fuller face.

"This dress is too tight," she complains. She starts tugging at the bottom of the dress despite my warning her to stop. After a few tugs, the fabric rips and she tears it in a thin slit going up her thighs. It doesn't look horrible, but I know Lilith would flip out if she saw it.

"Much better," she comments, more calmly now.

I groan internally. "Just go hide in your room before someone sees you," I say. I'm genuinely surprised when she listens.

I don't see her again until the interviews have started and she is onstage. One thing I notice really quickly is that this year's crop of tributes isn't quite standard. There are the usual careers, of course, since those were the obvious choices to vote in for the richer districts. The rest of them, though; they just look like troubled kids. I wonder how many of them got voted in because of burned bridges.

Among the tributes are a handful who don't look like they should be here at all. Scrawny and terrified. Who in their right mind would pick them to represent the district?

I hold onto my husband's hand for support as the interviews begin. Electric yellow-colored Nathaniel and his young son take turns questioning the tributes as an upbeat track plays in the background. Through One, Two, and Three, I try to imagine what Raini might say. Anything is liable to come out of that girl's mouth.

When it's finally her turn, she takes her place in the seat and pulls her feet up on the chair, probably just to spite Isidora. Instead of looking at the Flickerman duo, she stares down at her hands and picks at her fake nails.

Nathaniel jumps right into the questions as if there is nothing out of the ordinary. "So Raini, as a career, it must be exciting for you to take part in the very first Quarter Quell. How are you feeling so far?"

Raini takes a second to consider the question. The bright stage lights make her look very pale, especially for someone who grew up right by the ocean. "Eh. I want to be here, but not this year. I don't know how I'm supposed to answer that," she says, still not making eye contact.

The Flickermans look confused. They glance at each other unsurely. The kid, Caesar, speaks up. "What do you mean by that?" he asks.

She smirks and launches into her story about how Saphira chickened out and took advantage of everyone. I can't help but do a facepalm because I don't want to watch this train wreck. I don't look up until Alec nudges my side.

"Mags, you're onscreen," he says quietly.

I jolt up, and sure enough, the big screen is filled by my astonished expression. The audience gets a small chuckle out of my reaction. I do my best poker face and stare ahead at the stage.

Nathaniel and his son look kind of taken aback themselves. The older of the two makes a quick recovery. "From the look on your mentor's face, I'm guessing you two didn't agree on this beforehand," he says with a good hearted laugh.

"Must not have been what she wanted to hear. I think she knows by now that I'm going to do what I want," she answers simply.

"Speaking of doing what you want, we've heard a few rumors that you ditched training. Tell us, is that true?" Nathaniel prods.

Raini looks aggravated at him bringing it up since she's been scolded on that several times already. "I'm not the one who needs training," she grumbles.

"You did have a good training score," the young Flickerman notes as the buzzer goes off. They thank her and she heads back to the sofa as Eloy takes center stage.

Usually, I feel pretty good about the interviews after they're over. I'm not sure what to think about this one. I sink back into my chair, unsatisfied.

Eloy does a decent job of portraying himself as humble and strong. The rest of the interviews go by in a blur. When it's time to go back to our room and say our goodbyes, I don't feel like I have the energy to argue with Raini. Like she said, she's going to do what she wants, and I'll just have to leave it at that. No hugs are exchanged; I simply wish her good luck and let her loose into the wild.

I thought at one time that letting tributes go is like sending your child off to their death. Now that I'm a mother, I can say it's not nearly the same thing. It hurts to see these kids go, even when they have been as annoying and noncompliant as Raini. Some times are more painful than others. I think back to my very first year mentoring, when I had to see innocent little Cyana die before my eyes. That broke me. I've been broken so many times.

But here's the thing: Sending Destan off to the Games wouldn't break me. It would destroy me. Completely and utterly destroy me. I have constant nightmares about that happening.

I worried about his future and I'm worried about him now. He's safe and happy back in District Four, but I don't like being so far away from him.

"How do you think things are going back home?" I ask Alec that night. It must be close to 2 AM, but I know he's still up. So are the tributes, most likely.

I feel him shift next to me. "They're fine, Mags. I'm going to call to check in tomorrow when I get a chance."

"Okay. I will, too," I add. It's understood that we mean we'll go somewhere far out into the Capitol to make the call so there's less of a chance of our conversations being recorded.

"How are you feeling about tomorrow?" he asks.

I feel his warm arm on mine and I close my eyes to blackness as dark as the room around me. It's a relaxing darkness, though. Sometimes I wish I could clear my mind as easily as darkness clears my vision. "I have no idea what her plan is. I wish I at least had an idea of what might happen," I finally answer.

"No one knows what the arena will be like. I'm sure it will be something special for the Quarter Quell, and I don't mean that in a good way," he responds. I think about that for a while before he speaks again. "Maybe the girl will realize she's not as threatening as she thinks she is. Might even be good for her."

I know he's half-joking, but it doesn't seem right. Alec hasn't exactly been tolerant with her over the past week. Really, I'm the only one who has attempted to put up with her because it's my job. "I know she's a pain, but…I don't know. We'll see tomorrow. Good night," I say.

"Night," he says, and I try to let myself slip into sleep in the warm darkness because I know the next days won't be pleasant at all.

We fall into the standard procedure very quickly the next morning. The plan is to take turns with Kallan in the mentoring room, but we'll try to have two mentors there at any given time. The familiar chrome room hasn't changed much over the years excepts for a few additions as new technology emerged. There's still the divisions between each mentoring station, as well as the numerous computer screens with detailed information on the arena and sponsor money. For now, all the screens are black.

I go visit Nasser in the District Twelve station a few minutes before the Games are scheduled to start. I'm glad to see he's sober for now. I know it's something he's been struggling with, as well as loneliness. When the Games end, I get to go home and be with my husband, son, and the rest of my family. Nasser doesn't have people to go back to, so I always try to go out of my way to give him company while I can.

"How's it looking for you this year?" I ask, pulling up a chair next to him.

He shrugs, his steel gray eyes looking passive. I remember a time when they burned with determination. "They sent in the mayor's kids. The boy can run fast but that's about all I have to work with."

I think back to the interviews and remember seeing two blonde kids sitting on the end of the row. "They're brother and sister?" I ask, distraught. I don't remember anyone mentioning that.

"Yep. That's what happens when you come from a wealthy family. Starving people don't care for those who are well off," Nasser adds gravely.

I have to wonder if what Snow told me a few years back is true. Can people really handle having power? Or would they just throw those they don't like under the bus instead of making sound choices?

"Oh," is all I can think to say. I don't get the chance to add anything else because the countdown begins abruptly.

I make it back just in time to see the screens flash to life and hear the beginning of the tributes' countdown. The first thing I do is locate Raini and Eloy. After I've verified they are there, I can look out at the arena.

I feel like I'm missing something because the arena is definitely nothing special. As usual, the cornucopia is in the center, and from there it branches out to some sparse, grassy woods. One thing I notice is it looks much smaller than usual. I would imagine it would only take a few hours to run across the whole thing. There has to be something more to this. The last few years have included deserts and tundras. Those arenas weren't too helpful for Four's tributes, but I don't understand why a Quarter Quell arena would be so…plain.

The countdown drifts down into the mid-thirties when I notice it. Scattered around the map of the arena are circles. They aren't bodies of water like I originally guessed. No, there's no water on the entire surface of the arena because they're going to make the tributes go underground to get it. Those circles mark holes in the earth.

Caverns. The word pops to mind as another map flashes to life, this one showing an extensive underground maze. However, all paths connect to each other in some shape or form, assuring that the tributes won't be able to hide completely.

I don't think the tributes can tell what the holes are yet. They're too far out in the distance. The countdown winds down and stutters to a stop, and the teens turn into blurs of motion. Every time I watch the start of a Hunger Games, I am reminded of being in that same position. All the madness and chaos and confusion. And blood. Plenty of blood.

Blood is already spilling as many of the tributes battle at the Cornucopia. Both tributes from Four are there. I inhale sharply as I watch Raini grab something that resembles a scythe and slice through a girl who tries to take it from her. She grabs a few packs and slaughters another person before making her escape. I glance quickly over at Eloy's screen to check on him. He's running away with another career from District One, as far as I can tell.

It takes a few minutes for Raini to reach the first gaping hole. She stares at it in confusion but keeps running past it, clutching her bags and weapons between bloodstained hands. The screams of dying tributes echo in the distance. I think she realizes the secret to the arena by the time she reaches the next hole. She sets down her supplies and gets on her knees to peer down into the earth. After a moment of consideration, she takes her supplies and tosses them down before slowly guiding herself down the rocky wall.

Sunlight filters into this part of the cavern, but I can already tell it will be dark as night once she moves away from the entrance. Raini looks back up, clearly paranoid, but she stays within the light's reach as she sorts through her packs. Inside, she finds two flashlights, a helmet, a headlamp, a rope, a hook, and three packs of dried fruit. She keeps the scythe and the headlamp out but packs the rest into one bag before continuing further into the darkness in silence.

"Do you know anything about caves?" I hear Alec ask.

I turn to him. "Actually, yes. Me and Kai met some cave explorers when we were young. We talked to the every day for a few weeks."

"Did they tell you anything that might help now?" he asks.

"Maybe. Hold on, I'll try to remember," I say. With my eyes and attention still half focused on Raini's screen, I allow my mind to drift back to a buried memory from twenty years ago.

I was around ten years old and Kai was eight. Our parents had finally decided we were old enough to stay on the beach by ourselves for the day as long as we stuck together and were home for supper. Kai, who had been headstrong and too brave for his own good even as a small child, was the one who led us over to a small natural springs a good ways away from the beach we were supposed to stay at.

It was there we had met strange men trained by the Capitol dressed in scuba diving suits. One of the men was kind and more than willing to put up with our questions. He told us how there was a large system of caves underneath District Four, and the only entrance was through the springs. The men were to scuba dive down until they reached the air pocket that led to the caves. From there, they would explore and search for something the Capitol wanted.

We never found out what they were looking for, but Kai and I were entranced nonetheless. It became our secret hideaway. Our parents would leave us on the beach and we would run off to the spring to receive cave exploring lessons from the kind man. He taught us tricks such as using a lighter to see which direction the wind is moving to find an exit. Of course, us kids could never apply the lessons, but we did love hearing about it.

It ended one day when Kai took it too far and tried to dive down there himself. The explorer had no choice but to call our parents, and we weren't trusted on our own for a long time after that.

I feel a dull ache inside of me at the memory. I still miss my cousin a lot, but time truly does have a way of making the pain less sharp. There will always be a scar, but scars are infinitely better than open wounds.

I jot down some things I remember on a piece of paper and send it to the gamemakers for processing so it can be sent to the arena. It's not much, but maybe it will help my tribute in some way. I spend the rest of the day alternating between watching Raini and searching the online sponsor catalog for items that may be helpful.

By now, most of the tributes have discovered the caverns, but not too many groups have collided yet. I learn that most of the food is located above-ground, while the only water source is a waterfall that runs through the layers beneath the surface.

Raini's journey is relatively quiet. On the second day, she runs into the boy from Nine and takes him out without hesitation. I wish I could see some form of remorse or restraint on her face. The next morning, she wakes up covered in bloodsucking bats. She swats them away and screeches. The bats weren't enough to be lethal, but they did take a decent amount of blood and leave her covered in bite marks.

It seems that the deeper the caverns go, the more bats there are. I watch as two tributes fall victim to a swarm. Some tributes choose to go back up to the surface. However, though it may be safe from bats, the surface has its downfalls. It's almost too easy to be hunted down by other tributes up there. There's not much room to hide.

A big change comes in the early morning of the fifth day. Raini's getting restless. She's still strong and relatively uninjured, but I can tell being stuck in a dark, damp cave alone is doing some psychological damage. She sits on the floor of the cave, screaming out, "Come on and find me! I dare you! Hurry up, I'm getting bored!"

"You don't think her screaming could do something to the cave, do you?" I ask Kallan, who is currently taking his turn at the mentor station.

"If we're lucky, it would- Whoa! Did you see that?" he asks, his eyes bewildered but excited as he slides his buff arms over the desk and leans in close to the screen.

"I don't know what I'm looking for," I say. But then I see it. There's something-someone, maybe- sliding through the darkness behind her. I start tapping the screen until a notification box comes up.

It's definitely not another tribute.

I've seen a lot of mutts in my years, but none have looked quite this disturbing. Most are based off of common animals. This one is closer to humanoid. It's black as night and seems to be oozing something. The creature has very broad shoulders and a skinny, skinny body. Its fingers are webbed together and it's eyelids are fused shut. According to the screen, it makes up for its blindness with advanced sensitivity to sound. Sound just like the screams that are coming from Raini.

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Chapter 30 guest review reply!

Dusty714: Oh it's fine! I'm really glad you are catching up though : ) Thanks as always and I'm glad the pace is working. That's one of the things I've been struggling with


	32. Risk

**A/N: What, two chapters in one day?! Just a warning, the next chapter isn't going to be pretty. Rough waters ahead for Mags. Anyway, twice the typing, twice the reviews? Possibly? :) Oh, the next chapter should be up this weekend hopefully.**

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Just looking at the pitch black cave creature gives me goose bumps. Something about its humanoid appearance makes it extremely unsettling. Animals are one thing, but something in the shape of a man… That's crossing a whole psychological barrier.

"Damn, they're getting fancy with these mutts," Kallan comments.

"She needs to stop screaming. She needs to stop," I repeat desperately.

Onscreen, Raini hears a hiss from behind her and silences immediately. She turns around just in time for the creature to jump on her back and sink its teeth into her skin. Luckily, she already has her weapon in her grasp, so she is able to twist around and hit the mutt with the scythe. It takes a few achingly long minutes of fighting on the cave floor for Raini to finally emerge victorious.

She slams the corpse against the solid ground and beats it again and again with her scythe until there is absolutely no chance of it recovering.

"That'll show you," she says snidely and spits on the body, but even I can tell she's shaken. She flexes her hands and examines her wounds before slinging her bag over her shoulder and making an escape. This time, there's no screaming or pleas for action escaping her mouth. Her steps are deliberately fast paced.

It becomes apparent over the next few hours that there are many more cave mutts. One for each tribute, at least. A small pack of them takes out Eloy's ally, and he escapes to the surface shortly after. That's where most of the remaining tributes are now. Raini stubbornly remains underground, though she now appears to be on edge.

As fate would have it, another mutt finds Raini the following day. The hissing comes from around the corner and echoes through the cavern walls. Raini jumps up and pulls out a lighter I sent her. She raises it up and watches the direction in which the wind blows, then bolts toward the source. I'm glad that my advice is able to help her find an exit now, but I'm more concerned on whether she'll make it out in time.

Her hands start trembling once she glances back to see the mutt gaining on her. Quickly. The exit is too far away. She backs into a corner, weapon poised, and looks around desperately. She catches sight of a beam of light coming from a narrow wedge between some rocks above her. Without hesitation, she drops her supplies and climbs, kicking rocks down at the mutt along the way.

I breathe a sigh of relief when her upper body breaks through into the sunlight. That relief fades real fast when she tries to pull the rest of her body through and gets stuck halfway. The cave monster latches onto her calf with sharp teeth. Raini kicks and kicks and kicks violently until the mutt is incapacitated, but not until serious damage has been done to her leg.

She lays her head into the grass and screams. I've mentored enough years to know when death is on its way, and that's how it's looking right now. I want to send her some supplies, but nothing is going to help her unless she can get herself unstuck first.

It's not long before another tribute finds her. Out of everyone it could be, I'm grateful it's Eloy. There's no guarantee he will keep her alive, though. I'm even less hopeful when he points a trident to her neck.

Even with her pain, Raini manages to keep a scowl on her face when she sees him. "You came here to kill someone from your own district? Go ahead then. You're no better than the rest of us careers. Kill me and run back to your little friends." There's not a hint of fear in her voice.

"I'm not with the rest of them. My only ally is gone," he responds without moving his weapon. "What happened to you, anyway?" he asks.

"Why don't you go down there and see for yourself," Raini snaps. Eloy presses the trident closer to her neck to where it touches her skin. Left with no other choice, Raini gives a real answer. "I got attacked by an ugly mutt thing. It got my leg after I got stuck…I can't feel my leg at all."

The sky clouds over and Eloy still stands there motionless. "Well, are you going to kill me or not? Don't just leave me hanging," Raini says, her teeth grit in pain.

Eloy bends down to her level but doesn't move his weapon. It must be cold because I can see his breath in the air as he speaks. "Look, I ran into those mutts, too. And now I need an ally. If I help you, do we have a final two deal?"

"I don't want or need an alliance."

"Well the alternative is for me to kill you right now," Eloy reminds her. He presses the trident a little further. It's poking her skin now. Any more pressure and it will puncture.

Raini's face is starting to whiten and I know she has to be in immense pain. What choice does she have. "Fine. Just get me out already."

Her district partner doesn't move. "Okay, ask nicely first," he commands.

"What the hell? I don't have time for this," Raini complains. She struggles and squirms, trying unsuccessfully to get out of the rocks' grasp. "Please help me out," she relents in a mumble.

Eloy looks amused. He drops the trident and pulls Raini's wrists, but she isn't budging. He clears his throat and wraps his arms around her upper body instead.

"Don't touch me!" Raini screams.

"Shut up. I'm trying to help you." He pulls hard and she eventually starts sliding out. Once Raini's legs slide against the stone, she screeches in pain and Eloy throws his hand over her mouth.

Finally, something I can do as a mentor. I immediately pull up the sponsor screen and select a kit to stitch Raini's leg along with some medicine. The medicine is a little draining on our resources, but the way I see it, the money is being put to good use.

Raini has a constant stream of complaints as Eloy stitches up the deep gashes in her leg. When he's done, she says, "That's the last time I'm ever trusting you with medical equipment. I'll probably lose my leg thanks to you."

"No, you'll probably keep the leg thanks to me," Eloy says, annoyed. "Stop being so ungrateful. Do you ever think that might be the reason no one likes you?"

That strikes a nerve. Raini jumps up despite her bad leg and lunges for the trident. Eloy beats her to it. "You're really going to try to kill me now?" he asks in disbelief.

"You don't know me. Don't act like you do. My life is none of your business," she hisses.

Eloy puts both hands in the air and kicks the weapon towards her. He stares at her with widespread eyes and an unreadable expression. Raini starts to grab at the weapon, but she stops herself. I guess she must have at least something resembling a conscience in that brain. "I'll have plenty of time to kill you in the final two," she says reluctantly.

The two of them actually don't make too bad of a team. Over the next week, the medicine helps Raini recover and the two of them take turns hunting and guarding. They tag-team the demise of two more tributes along the way. Slowly but surely, the number of remaining tributes dwindles, and slowly but surely, I can see some trust forming.

I'm finally allowed another break, and I feel confident enough about how things are going to step away from the control room for a while. I go out into the city on my own and find a somewhat secluded area. I take out Isidora's spare cell phone that she let me borrow and dial the number of my old house. My mother answers after four rings.

"Hello?" she asks cautiously.

"Hey, Mom. It's me," I reply.

"Oh, Mags," she says, happily this time. "How are things going over there? Are you okay? How's Alec?" she badgers, as mothers usually do.

"He's fine. We both are. What about Destan? Is he giving you any trouble?" I ask.

"He's doing great. He's a little character," she says fondly. "Your father's been taking him down to the beach. You know, the same spot he used to take you."

I smile and I feel my heart glow a little bit. He's safe and he's happy, and that's really all I needed to hear. "Can I talk to him?"

"Sure thing. Hold on a sec."

In the background, I can hear her voice and the pitter-patter of small feet running down the hall. "Mama?" a small voice asks on the other side of the line.

I'm so happy to hear his voice even though it makes me miss him even more. "Yes, baby. It's me. What have you been up to, little man?"

He starts talking in a hurry. "Me and Pawpaw, we went to the beach and swimming and on the boat. He has a really big boat and I was the captain. He said I could be captain so I was. And there were fishingmans. But no sea monsters, Mama."

I have to laugh at that. It's so cute I just can't take it. "That sounds great! Tell me and Daddy all about it when we get home. So you've been good?"

"Yeah," he says. "But when are you coming home? You've been gone forever."

"Soon, I promise. We'll always come back for you. Always," I assure him.

"But it's been one hundred years." Everything with him is one hundred years. I can picture a little pout on his face as he says it.

"Aw, Destan. You just go have fun with Pawpaw and we'll be there before you know it," I say.

As I'm speaking, I see something strange happen of the television screen across the street. It's broadcasting the Games, as usual. What concerns me is the sky in the arena is suddenly changing from blue to pink. It looks like there are multiple fake suns arranged in a circle around the arena, and each one is rapidly eclipsing until it is black as night. Whatever this is, it's not natural. The only thing I can think is it must be signaling a finale.

"I have to go. I'll call you later, I promise. I love you," I tell my son. I hear him start to protest on the other line, but I really can't stick around to talk. It sucks because I don't feel like going back there to watch one or both of my tributes die. I want to stay right here and talk to my little one. No, actually, I want to go home right now and go back to being a semi-normal family. Once this is over with, I can.

I head straight back to the mentoring room, where both Alec and Kallan are. I stand behind Alec's chair and rest my chin on his shoulder. "What's going on?" I ask hesitantly.

"It's all ending. The sky went dark and the cave mutts came to the surface. You're still on break. You don't have to watch this if you don't want to," he reminds me.

"No, I do," I say. "Raini's still out there."

I look at the main screen and see the four remaining tributes being chased to the center of the arena. All careers. That's not unusual, but it makes me nervous because I have seen this situation so many times before. Usually, Four makes it to the end before being beaten out by One or Two. We had an advantage over them the first few Hunger Games, but then they got a head start in career training. Now it's all evening out. Anything could happen.

Raini's running pretty well for having injured her leg so badly last week. She's right behind Eloy, but the mutts are gaining on them fast. Eloy points at a tree and they both climb it as high as possible, until their combined weight makes the tree sway. The camera shows a close up of their faces, and they look like most tributes do after two weeks in the arena: matted hair, thin faces, hollow cheeks, layers of blood and dirt, cuts and bruises.

They would appear to be the walking dead if it weren't for the shred of hope that still burns in their eyes. They glance back and forth between the cave monsters at the bottom of the tree and the other tributes being tormented about fifty feet away. One of the teens is clearly on their way out, but no canon has boomed yet.

Eloy and Raini are practically wedged together on the little branch. The former speaks up. "They're going to be gone soon. I guess this is it. Our alliance had a good run, but now we'll see who ends up victor in a fair fight. Good luck to you, but I'm not going to go easy."

Raini stares ahead quietly, he expression blank. "It might not be such a fair fight," she says softly.

"What do you mean?" Eloy asks. I see his body language shift the slightest bit into a more guarded stance, even though his words are calm.

"We have a final two deal. It's almost final two, and…I don't think I can beat you. Not without my scythe."

He looks at her, stunned, but it's too late. She's already pushed him over the edge of the branch. He grasps on for dear life, his legs swinging in the air only feet above the mutts.

"I really am sorry, but I have to win." She unlatches his fingers from the bark and watches him fall. The mutts are on him before he reaches the ground, their slimy black bodies enveloping him and making him disappear into the dark. Raini looks away and her whole body shakes.

In the control room, the three of us exchange looks, but no one says a word.

Two canons go off. Two tributes left. The cave mutts know it too. They sit down in eerie too-humanlike poses and watch. The last kill is not a job for Capitol-crafted creatures. The death must be delivered by a tribute, and it must be gory.

Raini slides down the tree and goes to meet her injured male opponent. Time seems to drag by in slow motion through the final fight. Every scream, every crack of a bone; they all echo. Two broken kids fighting for another chance at life. Little do they know, it's not the same life they left. They don't know, but no one ever does. You go through the motions because it seems right. Instincts will carry you through.

And they do. Because as always, a canon booms, and there is a new victor.

And this year her name is Raini.

Now it's our turn to celebrate in the mentor room as the disappointed victors from Two make their exit. We're happy because this hasn't happened in a long time and it feels good to know that one of our tributes will have another shot at life. But underneath the cheering and the embraces, we all know it's a bittersweet victory. It's possible for Raini to have a happy life, but she will have to endure a lot of suffering to reach it, and that never really ends.

I'm not allowed to see Raini for the next two days because the medical team is hard at work restoring her body to pre-Games perfection and then some. When I finally get to go into the room, I walk in slowly and cautiously. Raini is laying in bed under a blanket, her arms pinned down to the bed and secured by locks. I don't remember them chaining me down like that.

"Hey, how are you holding up?" I ask softly.

Her face looks like it's slowly sinking as she stares ahead, and she seems much different without an abrasive demeanor.

"You're a victor. I think you know," she says, irritated, but still softer than I expected.

I look at her closely. Her skin, which was naturally fair when I met her, is now an olive toned tan a shade or two darker than mine. They didn't bother with my skin tone when I won. Her nose seems a little different as well. Then, even with the blanket over her, I can tell they did the usual female alteration. I assume this is what she must be in a bad mood about. Having strangers change aspects of you that you didn't even know were imperfections is humiliating and leaves you feeling violated. Then there's the chains on her arms making her feel trapped.

"It must have been strange for you to wake up looking different. I know the feeling," I say tiredly.

"Oh, don't get me started on that," she complains, sounding more like her usual self. "I was talking about Snow's visit." She eyes me carefully.

I think I can help her with this. "When I won, Burns was president. We had to meet him in his office during the Victor's Banquet. I'm guessing Snow had the same talk with you."

She stares ahead grumpily, and that's the only answer I need. I pull a chair next to her bed and continue talking. "Listen, you didn't do anything wrong. Just take his advice and you'll be fine. We'll help you out, too."

"Are we talking about the same thing?" Raini asks in confusion. Then her voice gets a little higher. "So you just go along with it then? You just let him control you like that?"

I blink, a little thrown off by her words. Now isn't the time to discuss it, though. That's the first victor lesson Raini must learn. "Shhh, not right now. But trust me, you'll figure out how this life works. It gets easier over time. You can even learn to enjoy it. I've found a way."

She stares at me with wide, disgusted eyes. "That's sick. All of you are sick for that."

I sigh. "Raini, come on. Let's just get through the next few days so we can go home."

"I don't want any part of this," she insists. She certainly lives up to her words through all the post-Games events. She mopes around and doesn't respond to anyone. I'm getting fed up with her but, honestly, I would rather her not say anything than say something that could get all of us in trouble.

I'm relieved when we finally get back to District Four. Alec and I drop Raini off at her new house two down from ours and help her father move things in. Alec goes pick up Destan and when they come back, it makes my day to see my two favorite people in the world together, as they should be.

Destan is on Alec's shoulders and I still think they look a lot alike. Alec is smiling and he looks more like the man I know without the dark shadows and tired eyes and stubble that defined his features in the Capitol. And Destan…oh, I missed him so much. I can't go another second without having him in my arms. I give my husband a peck on the lips and grab my son.

His small arms wrapped around my neck hold me together. I tell him how much I missed him and how much I love him, and I can feel myself getting emotional already. Maybe I'm a sappy person. Maybe I am overprotective, as Alec has joked about several times. But I don't care, because my family is here and I can see my son's sea green eyes and I am happy. It's too much for my heart to take.

* * *

Life isn't too much different with a new victor, simply because we don't see her much. She generally keeps to herself. I try to check in on her every now and then, even if it means just baking something and delivering it to her house. I see her father more often because he's outside a lot, though I rarely talk to him.

I don't worry about her much as summer gives way to the only slightly cooler breeze of autumn. Before long, there is a chill in the air as winter takes over, and it is time for the Victory Tour. As expected, Raini isn't too enthusiastic. She actually almost likes the crowds, maybe because she's not used to having thousands of people adore her, but the closer we get to the Capitol, the moodier she gets.

At first I assume it to stem from lack of sleep and nightmares. But under her scowl is something much less hostile. Vulnerable, almost. That's what makes me decide she is scared of something or someone, and I think his name is Snow.

I really do try to find out what's wrong, but it's no use. She won't open up to me, and once we get home, I don't hear anything from her for several months. It's not until the twenty-sixth Games that I get an idea of what is going on.

Both Alec and I are free from mentor duty, so we get to stay in a hotel room and watch the Hunger Games in a theater far away from the mentor room. It's a nice vacation, and everyone is in good spirits when Four welcomes another victor, a quiet but lethal career boy. We're all stunned by our back-to-back wins. I'm visiting the training center to congratulate Kallan and Raini when I figure it out.

"I'm not trying to take credit," Kallan says, "but it was really me working way more than the girl. She kept disappearing the whole time."

"Where is she now?" I ask, and he points down the hall to her room. I walk down the hallway and knock on her door. No answer. I decide to just open it anyway. Raini's in there alright, dressed in skinny leather pants and a skimpy top, clutching a folded piece of paper in her hand.

"Thanks for busting into my room!" she says agitatedly. "Now could you get out?"

"Why are you dressed like that?" I ask. "The Games highlights are tonight. Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"I know what I'm doing," she says matter-of-factly.

I stare into her glare, distracting her attention enough to quickly swipe the paper out of her hand. She throws a fit and snatches it back, but not before I'm able to read it. There's a name and address on the card, and I recognize it to be one of the gamemakers.

"Raini, why are you going to a gamemaker's house?" I ask reluctantly, my voice weak because the puzzle pieces are coming together in my mind. Here I was worried about Raini finding sponsors on her own because this world is a dangerous place for young girls. Little did I know that she might actually be walking straight into those situations. I look at her outfit again and I know deep down that she isn't dressed like that for some innocent meeting. I know it, but I don't want to believe it.

She doesn't answer me. Instead, she watches as the stages of realization fly by on my face. I feel my jaw hanging open as I try to make sense of it. The main thing I feel is disgust. It's disgusting to take advantage of a seventeen year old like that and it's disgusting to set her up with a middle aged man and it's disgusting that someone could be corrupt enough to allow this-no, to _make _it happen. After everything I've seen, it's amazing I can still be surprised by how low humans can sink.

"Why didn't you have to do this, too?" Raini asks.

"Things have changed since I won, I say breathlessly. I realize there's something under the disgust. It's anger. "Come on," I take her hand and try to lead her out the room. She's a lot bigger than me though, and she has no problem resisting.

"What are you doing?" she asks defensively.

"We're going to sort through this mess," I tell her.

She eventually lets me lead her away, into the sun-filled streets of the Capitol. "You don't have to do this. This isn't even legal. It's disgusting and I don't want you going."

"Yeah, I already tried that during the Victory Tour. Got home and my dad was half paralyzed. If I ditch one more time, he's dead, so let me go!" she screeches.

I freeze. I know I hadn't seen her dad out in the yard in a long time, but it never occurred to me that something had happened.

"He has some other dirt on me too. I have to go," she admits, looking down at the sidewalk. "Just be lucky you didn't have to."

"I'm so sorry. Snow is worse than Burns," I reply. It's true. Burns had some twisted ideas and gladly took advantage of victors. In the Capitol, it was almost too easy to fall prey. But nothing back then was anything near as blunt and horrifying as Snow's plan now. How can someone grow so cold? "So you're just going to let yourself be prostituted from now on?" I ask sadly.

"Well…actually," Raini begins, glancing up at me to reveal a small grin. "Maybe there's a way around this, so I can end it after this year. But I need help. Are you in?"

I'm a little stunned by this turn of events. "How do you plan on doing that?" I ask skeptically.

"If we reveal Snow for what he truly is, if people know the truth, we can change all of this. I'm going to say something on air before we go back to Four. I just want you to act as my witness." She's smiling now despite the situation. It's clear she thinks she has a genius plan.

My face pales. "No, that's a good way to get everyone killed. I can't, I'm sorry. I have my family to look out for. I can't risk my son. I can't."

Her faces contorts back into the traditional angry Raini scowl. "What kind of life are you giving him anyway? He never even leaves Victor's Village because you shelter him so much. You know good and well he's going to be reaped one day! There's nothing you can do to stop it, but you can change this. The best chance for your kid is to get rid of Snow."

"You're not his mother, don't act like you know," I snap, and feel instantly guilty. "I don't know, I have to sleep on it. Just promise not to say anything yet."

I toss and turn all night, thinking about the future. The more I consider it, the more I think Raini has a point. But I know we can't get rid of Snow by her method. It's going to take careful planning to build up a following big enough to make a difference. Numbers mean safety.

I can't believe I'm doing this. I don't want to risk this life I have spent fourteen years building for myself, but I feel like it's something that needs to be done.


	33. Crumble

**A/N: This chapter is outrageously long. I did it kind of like those shows that start out with the climax and flash back to show what led up to it because I had writer's block and wanted to try something different. I know it's depressing. Y'ALL PLEASE DON'T KILL ME :( Oh and the quote at the beginning is by Friedrich Nietzsche. It really got me thinking.**

* * *

"_He who has a Why to live can bear almost any How."_

That phrase has proven true for me. For years, I've seen others waste away and crumble into nothing, all because they've lost their sense of direction in life. There are ways to get by. You can look for beauty in life and take things one day at a time, but none of this will sustain the worst of the downtrodden. Without a Why, there is no purpose in life; nothing to compensate for the suffering.

I've found my Why. I have reason to go on and stay strong despite the challenge. My responsibility to my family is the only thing that's kept me from crumbling along with the rest of them.

Then what am I supposed to do when that Why is seconds away from collapsing? Why and How cannot be separated. One string snaps and the other is not far behind. That Why is life itself, and it's slipping away.

The floor is cold and hard but the adrenaline rushing through me is hot, hot. I can't get up. I can't act upon this sudden strength because doing so would mean the end for my Why, my How, everything. It beats against the core of my being. My body shakes and my heart pounds and I am completely at his mercy.

I look up into the icy, unforgiving eyes of my captor. "Please, don't. You've already won. Please," I whimper, my voice unsteady.

He cracks a smile at my desperation. I'm sure he feels powerful with me begging at his feet. If that's what he wants, he can have it. He can have anything besides what he's threatening to take right now.

~ 3 weeks earlier ~

"Mom, how come I'm the only kid here?"

The question takes me stop what I'm doing and I immediately feel a sense of dread. I knew this question was coming, but I always counted on it being far off in the distance. I assumed I would have my act together by then. Now I'm looking at my five year old and I realize I don't have a good explanation. Not one that he would understand, anyway.

"Destan, it's not bad to be the only kid. You have everything you need right here," I say hesitantly. "What made you ask that?"

He looks up at me from where he's sitting at the table, pencil in hand and a stick figure drawing on the paper beneath him. "Because I saw some other kids on the beach. They said they were going back into town…I thought you said only grownups can go into town? Right?"

His sea green eyes are wide with questions. He's still young and naïve enough to believe that whatever adults say is the truth. We're supposed to know everything, but the truth that he's about to find out is that we don't. I don't even know how to explain this to him in a way that won't reveal everything I'm trying so hard to protect him from. If he knew the truth about everything, then he would see that his parents are nowhere near perfect.

I pull up a chair next to him. "It's hard to explain. All you need to know right now is you're different from those other kids. It's safer for you to stay here. I've lived out there before, and trust me, it's much nicer here."

"How am I different? They didn't look different than us," he questions in confusion. His small features bunch up in thought. I can see the faintest dusting of freckles that only appear in the summer across his nose.

Your parents. Your parents are why you're different. When I speak, though, I say, "You're the only kid born in Victor's Village. You'll understand one day," I assure him.

"I can understand now," he presses on.

I laugh a little. "Come on, kid, we're supposed to go meet Aunt Marilla." Of course, Marilla isn't really his aunt, but that's just how it turned out. We've always been more like sisters than cousins.

Destan reluctantly listens and grabs his favorite red hat from the other room.

A little while later, Marilla and I sit by the pier and catch up. I keep one eye on Alec and Destan by the shore. I told Alec beforehand not to let Destan get his clothes wet, but I can see my son running in and crouching as the waves withdraw, and it doesn't take long at all for one of the waves to catch him.

"Yay, more laundry for me to do," I muse.

Marilla snorts. "That's what you get for wanting a family and all. You won't see me washing other people's clothes."

"It's not so bad," I comment. I stare out at my family again and think about the conversation I had with Destan a little while ago. He deserves a better life than this. He should be starting school this year. Instead, I'm keeping him locked away in Victor's Village. If I send him out into the world, what would happen? I don't want him ending up as a ruthless career.

Then I'm thinking back to what Raini asked me to do in the Capitol. Snow's downfall might be the only thing that can save Destan from a future in the Hunger Games. Then again, my involvement might be the only thing that puts him at risk.

"Whatcha thinking about, Mags?" Marilla asks, peering over at me with blue eyes that match my own.

"What do you think about President Snow?" I ask quietly in return.

"Snow? I guess he's as bad as the rest of those Capitol people. Kids are still getting reaped and districts are still starving and all that jazz."

"He's worse. If you knew what he was doing to the new victors…It's disgusting. I have no respect for him," I say, voicing opinions I've had for a while.

Marilla turns more towards me. "I know you're not going to just say something like that and not tell me the whole story."

I look around to make sure there is no one within earshot. Marilla is really the only non-victor I trust with this kind of stuff. "He's selling them. Prostituting them," I tell her. I look down as I say it, but there's no way to not be blunt about it.

She looks at me, stunned. "Are you being serious right now? What the…you don't have to do that, do you? So help me I will find a way to the Capitol and punch that man myself."

I shake my head. "No, only the victors who have won since Burns died. The two newest victors here are part of it. Raini wants my help getting out of it," I admit.

"Are you going to help her?" Marilla asks.

"Yes? I don't know. I'm just so sick of watching everything get worse. Then I feel guilty knowing that all these kids are going through this when it could change. Knowing and doing nothing to stop it makes me just as bad as Snow."

I sigh and continue. "And then there's my family. I know I should be happy just to have them now, but I have a really bad feeling about the future." I try to block out the memory of the nightmare I had last night: the usual scene of Destan in the arena. "I just don't know if it's worth the risk because I might not even be able to change anything."

"Yeah, but you're going to regret it if you don't at least try," Marilla says.

"You think so?" I ask.

"I know you and I know you will. So go on and tell me the plan because I'm in," she says decisively.

I shake my head. "No way. If I do this, I'm not letting any of you get involved."

She stands up and folds her arms childishly. "You need me. You're the one the Capitol is watching, not me. I'm less likely to get caught and nothing you say is going to change my mind"

I put my hands up in surrender. "Okay, fine, but if anything at all happens, you're getting out of the operation. I'm serious."

"Whatever you say," she shrugs.

~ 2 weeks earlier ~

It's a struggle for us to decide on much. Marilla, Raini and I meet up every night to discuss different plans, but the problem is no one wants to compromise. Every idea we come up to will ultimately place the blame back on us. Maybe that's the only way any of this can work out; a sacrifice for the greater good. I'm reluctant to take any action as long as I'm uncertain what it would mean for my loved ones.

"I say we just be direct with it," Raini argues. "It's not going to make it any less risky to draw things out."

"I hate to admit it, but I think the girl might be right," Marilla adds. "Remember when Burns died and all those other people followed right behind him? That scared people because it was so sudden. Maybe we should do the same."

I have to stop and consider that. Marilla and Raini actually seem to be on the same page a lot. They have somewhat similar sarcastic demeanors, only Raini is more aggressive while Marilla comes off jokingly. No matter that difference, their thought process works a little differently from mine. I want to take risks, I do, but I'm more cautious.

"That's true," I begin. "But if we do that, we have to know that it will shock them enough to do something. As awful as Snow's little system is, how do we know people will fight to change it if it doesn't affect them? People look out for themselves."

"If they're okay with the world like it is then they're all idiots," Raini complains, folding her arms and scrunching her face.

Marilla rolls her eyes at the younger girl. "Then what would make them care?"

We reflect over that for a while and all is quiet except for Raini's periodic grumbles. I think about when Burns died and all the silent panic it caused. Usually, when I think back to that time, I remember discovering I was pregnant. There was much more going on, though. Before my thoughts turned to the baby inside me, I was very suspicious of how Snow was the only one who survived the string of "accidents." There has to be more to that story, but the only place to find answers is in the Capitol.

"Maybe we should hold this off for a year. I was just thinking about how suspicious it was that all of Burns' successors died so Snow could be president. Maybe we can research it a little more in the Capitol. Raini, you might be able to find out something from the-"

"What are you trying to say?" she interrupts.

"I'm just saying.."

"I know exactly what you're saying!" she explodes. "You want me to go sleep with those old creeps all over again just to get your precious answers that probably don't exist! You're going to have to drag my dead body back there before that happens!"

Suddenly I'm scared that that's exactly what I meant, and I'm instantly ashamed. I watch her kick around things angrily. I wasn't thinking about how it would affect her. It was one of those ideas that sounds perfectly reasonable in your head, but is completely insensitive when it comes out.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. That was wrong to say."

"You think?" she snaps. Marilla tells her to lay off but I shake my head.

I have to consider then just what it must have been like for Raini. I remember the first time I tried to get sponsors on my own, an older man tried to take advantage of me. Luckily, it didn't go any further than a long, uncomfortable kiss, but that alone made me feel so violated.

I had Alec looking out for me so nothing like that ever happened again. Who's going to look out for Raini? Most people can't even tolerate her. She doesn't have a mother that I know of, so the responsibility to protect her goes to me. I can't put her through another year of that.

"Okay, we'll get this done now so there won't be a next year," I say.

"Well what are people going to care about?" Marilla asks again, examining a strand of her blondish hair. "All they worry about is fishing and making money. And rebuilding if there's a storm."

"Hurricanes. If they knew the Capitol could predict hurricanes…Hmm, that could work," I say.

"What do you mean they can predict hurricanes?" Marilla asks, baffled. I had forgotten I never told her. I look over at Raini and she has a similar shocked expression.

"It's something Alec told me a long time ago. It's not much of a stretch if you think about it. With all the technology they have, predicting weather should be easy. Apparently people have done it for centuries," I answer.

"Well let's go do this," Raini speaks up.

And so it begins. We scribble down notes about the Capitol. Most of them are about the hurricanes, but there's plenty about Snow's less than humane methods. A few of them question how Snow even became President. Will it be enough? That's hard to say. It might not be, but we have to try.

Doubts lace our minds, but we try to remain positive as we carry the notes out into the night to spread around the district. Once people find them, rumors and spread and uncertainty will ensue. Perhaps then, the public will be ready to hear our stories; ready to make a difference.

A voice in the back of my mind keeps nagging with a somber "or maybe not."

~ 1 day earlier ~

Standing on my front porch, I'm able to stare out and see the crowd of fisherman lining the shore. They're tiny silhouettes in the dusk. Over the whip of the wind, I can hear their aggressive shouts. Fisherman on strike. It's been like this for a few days now, and Four is already starting to feel the effects.

They found the notes. Rumors spread. Neither Raini or I have made any public statements yet. For now, we're watching the chaos build. Like we predicted, it's the hurricane secret that affected them all the most. For all of us living on the coast, it's personal. Time after time, the people of Four have rebuilt from storms, because the little wooden houses stand no chance against the most extreme winds. Flood waters have destroyed families' possessions.

More importantly, the lack of warning for storms has led to countless lives being lost at sea. We have anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours notice once the weather starts to turn bad. Often, this isn't enough time to get all the sailors back on land and safely in their homes. It's these things that fuel Four's anger.

I silently walk into my house, and I hear my name echo down the hallway. All Alec said was "Mags", but his tone tells me there is another sentence hidden in the letters: "We need to talk."

I slink into the room nervously, feeling like a teenager who just got caught by her parents. An uncomfortable conversation is sure to come because I know Alec has caught on to my plan. As hard as I've tried to keep him out of it and detract the attention away from me, he knows there's only one person besides him who knew about the hurricanes. Me.

"Is something wrong?" I ask reluctantly.

I can finally see him, and he looks more exhausted and disappointed than angry. "You caused all this," he says. There's no question in his tone.

I look at the ground. He already knows the answer anyway, and now it's time to talk. I just hope he will understand that I left him out of all this for a reason. "Where's Destan?" I ask.

"He fell asleep. We're free to talk."

We head outside to the front porch and I start defending myself before he can say anything. "I can explain. It's something that I had to do- for Raini, for Destan, for everyone- and it's safer for you to not be a part of it."

"I thought we were better than keeping secrets," he says simply, and it stings.

"I'm-I'm just trying to make things better. And I'm worried about Destan's future. I think this is his best shot."

"I'm worried too, and you know that because we've talked about it. This is dangerous stuff, Mags. I get why you did it but you shouldn't have done it behind my back," he responds, his voice rising with each sentence.

"It's too late to change anything now," I say, looking up to meet his eyes.

He's not done. "They're going to know it was you! I know things need to change. Heck, I've even been thinking about it myself, but we should've come up with a better plan. What were you thinking, anyway? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" He's shouting now.

I have the sudden urge to cover my ears and block all of this out. "I know! I know, just stop!" I turn around and start walking down the brick steps, away from all of this.

Of course Alec follows me and grabs my arm from behind. "This isn't going to go away just because you don't want to talk."

"Please stop," I beg.

"Why should I?"

"Because if I die, I don't want us to end with this argument!" I admit, and it leaves me feeling so drained that I sink down and sit right there on the steps, blinking away the tears.

It's silent for a minute, and all I can hear is the crashing of white-capped waves and the swooshing of the trees as a rough wind whips them around. I see Alec sit down beside me out of my peripheral vision.

He doesn't sound as angry anymore when he speaks next. "Mags, you're not going to die. I won't let you. We just need to be on the same page with all of this."

I look at him and give the weakest of smiles when he brushes away a tear. "Thanks," I say softly.

We look out towards the edge of the beach. The defiant group of fisherman are fading into the golden dusk.

"So they're all upset about the hurricanes. I wonder what would have happened if I got to tell the world a long time ago," Alec wonders, sounding tired.

Something clicks. Hurricanes, predictions, yellow. A yellow-tinted sky is the ominous warning of a storm. The world around us is slowly sinking into an unnatural yellow right now.

Alec and I notice it at the same time, and we exchange a look. "Speak of the devil," Alec says. All rebellious plans forgotten, we leap into action. We get some garbage bags from inside and fill them with sand as quickly as possible before piling them against the door to protect from flooding.

These kind of things have to be dealt with quickly. The storm could be here within minutes. The wind outside is already picking up as I gather some flashlights and other storm essentials.

"This might actually work to our advantage," I tell Alec. "If people were mad before, any damage this causes will only make them hate the Capitol more."

Alec doesn't look convinced. "I don't know. It's almost too convenient to be real."

"Maybe the world is just on our side for once," I try to reason. It doesn't hurt to hope.

Just then, there's a pounding knock on the door, and a million bad thoughts run through my mind. It must be the peacekeepers. They must have found out this is all my fault and they must be here to take me away.

I had already decided that if things get bad, I would go out with dignity; walk to my death with my head held high because I know I've done everything in my power to make a difference.

Then why am I shaking right now? Why am I looking back at my husband desperately with wide, terrified eyes? Why do I feel like there's something more I need to do in this world? The truth is, I'm not ready to die. Not at all.

Alec understands without having to look. "Get upstairs. Take Destan and hide," he instructs.

I stand uncertainly before turning towards the stairs. I'm up a few steps when Alec peeks out the door. "Mags, wait. It's just your family."

Relief floods through me so quickly that I feel like I've deflated. I rush to the door and kick the sandbags out of the way. Sure enough, all of them are here: My parents, aunt and uncle, Marilla, Hallie and her new fiancé. All of them are soaked from rain.

I can barely hear my father over the roar in the background. "There's a storm coming. Peacekeepers went door to door and told us to go to the main factory for shelter. Are you coming?"

"I think it's safe here," I say loud enough to be heard. Even though they are closer to water, the victor houses are much more sturdy against storms than the wooden ones. "Come on in, you all can stay!"

The lot of them walk in dripping wet. Outside, the rain is falling in slanted sheets. I get some towels from the bathroom and set up some cots on the floor. A few hours later, there's a particularly loud clap of thunder and the power snaps off.

"Moooommm!" comes a cry from upstairs, and soon Destan has dashed down. He runs straight to my lap and I hold him there, grateful that I'm alive and with my family for now.

We sleep off and on that night. The only way we are aware that morning has arrived is by the clock. It's still very dark and muggy outside. The rain is much lighter now that the worst has passed, so my cousins and I go out to survey the damage.

The reach of the ocean has expanded significantly, and it inches closer and closer to the lawns with each angry white wave. The yards and beach are disheveled, with branches and debris lying everywhere. The only apparent damage is a few missing shingles and some torn posts on the boardwalk. It's likely to be much worse in other parts of the district.

Some peacekeepers spot us after a while and instruct us to report to Town Square. There's not much of an option. As the white clad men go bang on the doors of the other victors, we gather our group and head into town.

I see hundreds of people piling out of the main factory and filling up the Square. We assimilate into the crowd, huddling together to avoid getting lost. Everyone appears enraged as they look at the storm-torn town. There's lots of shoving at shouting, and once President Snow appears on the stage in front of us, it turns to full blown chaos.

Snow keeps his composure despite the angry mob trying to climb up the stage to attack him. I think they might just get him, and the thing is, I wouldn't be disappointed at all if they did. Capitol reporters behind him gasp at the savagery of the crowd and a sea of uniformed peacekeepers drive into it.

The President speaks up. "I suggest you all calm down and be silent if you want my help."

The crowd quiets a little, though there are still rouge cries of "Haven't you done enough!" and "Give us one reason why we should trust you!"

He ignores them, runs a hand through his pale blonde hair, and readjusts the white rose on his lapel. When he speaks, his voice sounds so commanding that it looks out of place coming from the scrawny young man before us. "Rumors are more destructive than storms. Storms we can rebuild from. Rumors do irreversible damage, so calm down and let me explain."

He clears his throat and continues. "Hurricane prediction is not the perfected science all of you seem to think it is. Conditions change hour by hour. Truly, nature makes it's own path, and the only way to be sure it will hit is when it's already too late to prepare. There is no way to prevent damage even if it were possible to know ahead of time.

"Furthermore, I would like you all to know this is the first major storm that has hit since I became President of Panem. I have provided all of you with means of shelter, and I intend to help you rebuild. Each family will be allowed a certain number of supplies for free. Anyone requiring more can bargain either with money or by using the tessarae system. So please, people, think of the facts before you do something rash over a few silly rumors."

The anger in the crowd settles into a quiet uncertainty as they eat up his words. I look around and I feel disappointed because all our work is falling apart. Now people's primary concern will be repairing damage, and Snow was able to use this to get everyone back on his side. He outsmarted us.

"This was his plan all along," I whisper to Alec, and he nods grimly. Snow is more conniving than I give him credit for. To be able to plan the very thing that made people angry and use it to his advantage…that takes a genius.

Now the question is what this new turn of events means for us. As most of the crowd, begins filing out to supply sites at the peacekeepers' direction, we try to slip out unnoticed. We say brisk goodbyes to my family and Alec, Destan, and I are on our way back home.

We're halfway there when there's a voice behind us. "I figured I should visit my victors while I'm in Four. We are like family in a way, yes?"

We whip around to face Snow. Surprisingly, his personal guards are a good fifty feet away. That makes me suspicious.

"I think the citizens might need your help with getting their supplies," Alec says gruffly.

"I think they can handle it. How about we head back to your house for a cup of tea?" he suggests, though his words are more of a command.

We head back nervously, and I can barely hear Snow's pointless small talk over the stress and terror inside me. When we are in the house, he sits at the table patiently and I feel completely ridiculous walking off to make tea.

"I'm glad I finally get the chance to meet your son," he says, reaching out to touch Destan's shoulder.

"Get your hand off of him," Alec growls.

"Whoa, mind your temper," Snow chastises. "I want this to be a civil meeting."

"Who are you?" Destan asks, looking at the President curiously.

"Oh, your parents haven't told you about me? What a shame. They must really be blocking you off from the world." He looks at me to gauge my reaction. I feel the heat of anger flow through me. If his bodyguards weren't here…

"You know, I like to check in on my victors periodically. I want to have another private session, just two or three minutes for each of you. Let's start with Mags," he says with a grin.

Every instinct tells me not to listen, but I'm hoping cooperation will be what saves us. I follow him to the office and he starts snooping around the room.

"Can we start talking?" I ask impatiently.

He looks at his watch. "I say now is the time to go," he says quietly.

"What?" I ask, but within seconds, peacekeepers have grabbed me from both sides. They carry me out the back door and cover my screams as we are met with more guards. I kick and squirm and try to yell, all to no avail. My tries persist for the whole journey to the Justice Building.

Alec. Destan. What is happening to them? Are they being tortured? Killed? It's all my fault and I have to get out NOW.

My whole body is trembling when they throw me onto the marble floor. No. No. No. No. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. This isn't fair. This isn't fair. I scramble for the door with a scream and they kick me back.

"You shouldn't have caused all this mess, my dear. Luckily, I was able to clean it up, but high treason is a punishable offense, you know," Snow says, his arms behind his back and a devilish grin on his face.

"Are you going to kill me?" I ask shakily. Victors have died before. He could kill me. Just don't kill them.

"Kill you?" he chuckles. "I thought about it. That's what I would normally do for treason, but different people must be punished different ways. Death would be too easy for you. You need to be punished, dear, not offered an escape."

"Where are they?" I demand.

He looks at his watch again. "They're still alive. For now."

Still alive. I could still save them. I fall down to his feet reflexively. My heart pounds so hard I think it might burst. "Let's make a deal. I'll do anything, I promise."

He shakes his head. "There's nothing you could give me now except justice of your crime, and that can only happen through your suffering. I have no use for Alec Calder anyway. He was Burns' pet, not mine. He's outlived his usefulness. And the boy, well he never mattered anyway."

Adrenaline pounds against me, but I'm scared giving into it will only make things worse. I lower my body even more and I am completely on the ground. He's my superior and he's won.

I look up into the icy, unforgiving eyes of my captor. "Please, don't. You've already won. Please," I whimper, my voice unsteady. I can't lose them. They are my everything, my only reason to live. I can't let them die because of me.

"I know I have," he says with a grin. "Care to watch?" He pulls a tiny remote out of his pockets and turns on an ornate TV.

Three.

My eyes are focused on the screen and I see Alec and Destan, both tied up. Ropes are strapped around their arms and legs so tightly that their hands are purple from lack of circulation. Their mouths are blocked but I can hear Alec's muffled shouts. He flops around, helplessly trying to free himself. Destan is thrown over one of the men's shoulders and he is crying and flailing as well.

I stretch my arm out, as if I could reach into the screen and free them. But I can't, and that is the worst feeling in the world. My hand snaps back over my mouth in horror.

Two.

They're headed towards the edge of the dock. The worst realization sinks into my veins. They're going to drown them. They're going to drown my husband and my son, the two people I love most in the world, and I have to watch. Alec and Destan are still flailing and I'm shaking and crying. The adrenaline is still there and it's overtaking my body, yet I am held here. There is no choice but to watch.

"STOP! STOP! YOU CAN'T!" The words fly out, wild, mangled, and most of all, desperate. My eyes flash from the screen to Snow and back in a millisecond. My vision is blurring.

One.

The peacekeepers push both of them under simultaneously. There's lots of thrashing and splashes as they fight for survival. My whole body is consumed by tremors and I am screeching, but my eyes are being held prisoner to the screen.

The smaller splashes cease.

I am screaming at the top of my lungs. That's my son! That's my baby! I can't think; I can't process. But I know what just happened and it kills me. I don't stop screaming as the larger splashes begin to fade as well. It's replaced by the silence of still water. Nothing left.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

The men pull the bodies out and I am gone. I fall back to the floor, my head hitting the marble hard, but it doesn't matter. Every part of me has been torn apart in an instant. It's a struggle for me to breathe because I'm being smothered from the inside.

Alec, my mentor, my husband. The one I fell in love with when I couldn't connect with anyone else. The one who understood what I went through. The one who helped me survive and proposed to me on a boat and married me out on the beach. The one who I shared a life with and got all I really ever wanted. He gave me that life and I destroyed it.

Destan. My baby. Our baby. So young and innocent. The boy with the green eyes who loved the color red and wanted to be a sailor. The one I carried inside of me for nine months.

Gone. All gone. All my fault.

Above the immense pain, I hear a throaty chuckle. It all comes into line. Snow. His fault, not mine. He's the reason for all of this.

I look up and everything else is gone. I do not cry. I do not think. All rational thoughts have suddenly fled, certainly to a world much better than this one. The only thing on my mind is one primal, instinctive need to kill the man in front of me.

The rage is overpowering. It's as if I'm looking through a red lens, and everything is somehow fuzzy and sharpened at the same time. I'm not in control of my own body as I lunge for Snow and knock him backwards into a glass statue. We both fall and I'm on top of him, my arms locked in a chokehold around his throat.

I'm an animal now, because what are we really besides beasts? The whole lot of us; all humans. I see pure fear in his snake eyes but I don't slow or stop. He took everything I had and he doesn't deserve to live.

Two pairs of arms grab me from behind and I kick and flail my way out with strength surpassing anything I have ever been capable of. I'm lunging for Snow again as the arms continue to pull me back. More footsteps storm into the room and my main- my only- focus is to claw into whatever piece of Snow's skin I can reach.

Several men grab me and forcefully slam me into a wall. I jump up, still wild and feral, but with each slam into the wall, the red in my vision fades, as does my strength. The anger all comes crashing down and I am left with my stabbing grief. The peacekeepers finally get a good grip on me while I break down into sobs. I finally become aware of the blood and bruises lining my skin.

Snow limps over to me a minute later, looking equally disheveled. "It's amazing you consider yourself to be kind. Don't forget your place. You're an animal just like the rest of the victors. Face it, you're no better than I am," he says in a low, enraged tone.

Being so close to him brings back a flicker of the flame I felt moments ago. "No. I'm not the monster here," I growl.

"Says the person who just tried to single-handedly assassinate the President," he sneers. He bends down and picks his torn-up rose off the floor. It still smells sickly sweet.

"I'm not like you! The world would be better without you! My family would still be alive! They did nothing! They were innocent! How could you kill a five year old boy?!" I screech. I push against my captors without success.

The president ignores me. Still standing in front of me, he turns to one of the men holding my arms and barks out some commands. "Have her on house arrest for three months. Don't let her commit suicide. I want her to live with what she's done."

While Snow is talking, I swing my legs up and kick him hard. I have literally nothing to lose. Death would be a blessing at this point.

He clenches his teeth and spits out some choice words. "Don't push your luck. I can always make it worse," he snaps. "Get her out of here," he tells the peacekeepers. Even though I attacked him and made him look weak, he knows he's won. He manages to smile mockingly as I'm dragged out the building.

"Have a nice time, my dear Mags," he says.

* * *

I'M SORRY! It had to be done! I'll explain whether Raini was punished soon and there will be a large time leap before long.

I'm terrified to read these reviews :/


	34. Grief

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry about the month long hiatus. I'm not giving up on the story and there is a reason for the madness that was the last chapter! Just to give an idea of the timeline, this and the next chapter will be Mags dealing with what happened. Then there will be 2 or so that cover a large amount of time before we see old lady Mags. This one kind of had to be depressing but it will get better**

* * *

I am drowning. Not in the literal way- not the same as the images that are permanently burned into my brain. There's no water in my lungs, yet I'm still gasping for air. For most of my life, I've mastered the art of floating along. Now my mistake has pushed me under and there's no hope of resurfacing. Why can't it just pull me under the rest of the way?

Dark oblivion has never seemed so alluring.

I tremble as the peacekeepers toss me onto the hard wood floor of my living room. Everything is beginning to sink in with frightening intensity. My husband and my son are dea…not coming back. I saw it with my own eyes, but I still can't completely believe it. I can't imagine life without them. The crushing weight in my chest makes it seem impossible to survive the next minute, much less the next decade.

They have to come walking through that door to tell me this was all a horrible nightmare. I'll wake up with Alec's body next to mine and Destan will be in his room right down the hall. I'll gasp as I wake and I'll shake slightly as I tell Alec my dream. We'll decide together that it was a warning to me to stop this ridiculous plan of mine, and we'll go on with our lives as normal. The way it should be.

A sob tears through me with such force it makes my whole body coil. I know that's not going to happen. This pain is too real to be a dream.

I stay curled up on the floor for what must be hours, sobbing until I think my eyes can't possibly produce another tear. The hardest thing to bear is knowing this is all my fault. I hate myself for thinking there was any way this could have ended well. Alec was right. He usually is.

I can't bring myself to correct that to "was".

Because of me, Destan will never grow up. He'll never have a friend his age or go to school or fall in love. I won't get to see him carefully weave blades of grass into an elaborate net in the weeks before his wedding. He'll never know my reasons for overprotecting him, the reasons I always intended on explaining when he was older.

I think the only person I hate more than myself is Snow. Even through the grief, I feel a spark of fury. That monster would be gone from this world if my hands had only a few more seconds around his throat. But somehow I doubt it would make any difference now. Dead or not, he had already won.

When I finally pull my face up from the floor, I instantly regret it. The sight of the empty sofa sends yet another wrench through my heart.

A thousand memories come flooding in. Me as a teenager sitting there with Alec the first time I came in this house. Us spending countless evenings there after we were married. Me lying on the cushions with knitting needles in my hands as I planned a way to reveal my pregnancy. Holding a bottle in my hand as I cradled that same baby nine months later. Destan and I pretending it was a ship in our game of fishermen and sea monsters.

A shudder runs through me and I clamp my eyes shut tightly. For a moment, I can almost picture them here, but it fills me with stinging emptiness instead. I try looking at other things: the TV, the coffee table, a clock. Even the simplest objects carry their own onslaught of memories. All I can hear is the echoes of those who won't return.

I can't do this. I just can't. I should be the dead one. I have a feeling I will be very soon. If there is life after death and Alec and Destan still exist somewhere out there, let me be with them. If not…at least I won't have to deal with this pain and guilt.

I get up and walk to the kitchen as if on autopilot. A gloved hand grips my wrist as I reach for the knife.

"Not so fast there, lady," the voice begins. It drones on, but I tune it all out and keep my gaze fastened on the knife. They can't stop me from doing this. No matter how many annoying hurdles they throw my way, the decision ultimately belongs to me. Free choice is the only power I have left. It's most likely the only freedom I've had all along.

I can do it now. His grip will have to loosen soon, and in that moment, I can drive the knife into my heart so fast he won't have time to stop me. So when his hold on me lessens a bit and opportunity opens, I'm not sure why I don't do it. Part of me is holding back.

I stare at the bruises and bloodstains on my arm and try to figure out why. It's not like I have any reason to live that is worth all this suffering. I bring the knife up a few millimeters and pause again.

It must be because I would rather do this in a moment of privacy. I bite the inside of my mouth so hard I taste blood. My reasoning sounds like an excuse. For years, I've promised myself and others that I would never allow myself to even think about resorting to suicide. I'm aware that doing this will betray the few people left in this world who actually care about me_._ Maybe it's some animalistic strive for survival, but I can feel an unspoken thought echo through me: _This is wrong. _

As if anything has gone right. I'm surprised I even have the ability to care at this point.

I'm sure one night of living in this empty ghost house will be enough to chase away the traces of guilt and fear harbored inside of me. One night is all I need to verify that going on would be impossible. Come daylight, this will all be over.

I gently drop the knife back down on the granite countertop and stand motionless until my wrist is released.

I return to the living room and drop my head when the memories come pounding back. The emptiness rings in my chest so intensely that I'm sure I will be engulfed by it. I squeeze my eyes shut again, as if that will block it all out.

My bedroom is out of the question. I walk down the hall, stumbling over my trembling feet as I search for a place with fewer memories. My forehead smacks into something hard and I fumble for the door handle.

Once I'm fully in the seldom-used guest bedroom, I allow myself to open my eyes. The bed is made as usual and there are no signs of disarray. There aren't many connections to Destan and Alec in here, but the breakdown comes anyway. I sink down to the floor, my legs too weak and wobbly to support me. Within seconds, my head is between my knees and I'm convulsing. I push my hands over my forehead and into my mangled hair, hoping the pain from my nails will distract me.

I have never felt more alone in my entire life. Not even the Hunger Games could bring out emotions so devastating. Just saying I miss them is a grotesque understatement.

I reach up to grab a little glass ornament from the nightstand and throw it across the room just for the sake of breaking it. The sound of shattering glass is satisfying but does nothing to pull this weight off my chest. I grab more things, anything I can get my hands on, and send them flying. I eventually push over the dresser itself and just start screaming. There is no beginning or end to the sound; it carries every atrocity I have seen in this world in one tortured wail.

It's not long before the peacekeepers burst in. Why won't they just leave me alone? I'm going to drown whether they are here or not. My scream is still going strong when I feel something warm flow into my arm.

"That should shut her up for a while," a voice says.

The numbness travels up my arm and into the rest of my body. My thoughts become fuzzy and it's magnificent. The pain dulls as my eyes droop.

The next thing I know, I'm leaning into the cushioned back of a rocking chair, my baby in my arms. I'm humming a gentle lullaby as we sway back and forth.

"Is he sleeping already?" I would recognize that voice anywhere. Alec.

I look up to see him leaning on the back of the chair. Something tugs at the back of my mind, just like a word on the tip of your tongue that you can't quite call into memory. I'm sure knowing what it is would help explain the relief that floods through me at seeing him.

His eyes flit from the baby to my face and he looks at me questioningly. "What?" he asks.

I realize I've been staring intently for too long. "Nothing. I was trying to remember something but I lost my train of thought," I respond. Whatever was on the border of my consciousness a moment ago is gone now. I breathe out contentedly.

The silence is comforting. My husband's hands rest gently on my shoulders and I pull little Destan closer against my chest. I kiss the top of his head, my lips brushing against the thin down of brown hair.

We stay that way for a long time, and the details of the day come back slowly. I lightly close my eyes, but when I open them again, I'm back on the floor of the guest bedroom.

The realization that it was only a dream hits me like a ton of bricks. What kind of cruel joke was that? I can feel Grief's arms around my throat again, strangling me as Heartbreak pounds at my chest. I can't bear the thought of being alone for the rest of my life. I can't imagine getting through one more day.

I should just end this now. I start to drag myself up to take the final walk of my life, but I find myself pausing once again. That dream- or hallucination, whatever it was- felt so real, so perfect. I can almost still feel Alec's hand on my shoulder. My arms feel warm where I was holding Destan.

Irrationally, I close my eyes and lay down again, trying to force myself back into the dream. Every second that passes brings on more desperate whimpers that turn into tearless chokes.

This needs to end. I repeat those four words again and again, hoping it will sink into my brain and clear all doubt. But the truth is, I'm terrified of the uncertainty death brings. If I could be certain that I would see my family again, that they are up there safe and sound, I would join them in a heartbeat.

What if my only hope of ever seeing them again is through medicine-induced visions? It's senseless and stupid, but I'm not exactly the definition of rational at the moment. The image of them is still fresh in my mind and I _need _to see them again. I need it as completely and overwhelming as an addict needs his drugs.

I'm not sure how long it will be enough reason to live in this personal hell, but for now it is the only option I can see.

I hear footsteps approaching and I press my face against the floor, fully intending on ignoring the man. The peacekeeper starts talking in a gruff voice, but then it drops down to a low tone. Intentionally quiet.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened. I'm just letting you know we aren't all like Snow. We might take his orders, but no one agrees with what he does."

I roll over so I can look at his face. My eyes remain expressionless as I wonder what could ever possess a person to loyally serve someone capable of such evil.

My blank stare makes him uncomfortable. "Um…if there's anything you, uh…need…"

His words redirect my thoughts. "That stuff you guys injected me with last night," I tell him.

"The knockout serum?" he asks skeptically.

"Yes," I say, my voice strained. "Please."

"Are you sure about that? Those drugs aren't anything light. I've seen them mess up more than a few people."

"I'm already messed up. I'd rather not be able to think about it."

He seems lost in thought for a moment. "I have a family, too. I've had to do things I disagree with for their sake. There must have been something that pushed you to risk everything. What was it?" he asks, an edge of curiosity in his voice.

This stranger doesn't seem too bad, but he's prying into things I'm not willing to discuss. I turn my gaze downward. "Please just bring the medicine."

He looks at me and walks out the room in silence. I wait there, sure that he will walk back momentarily with a syringe in his hand, but he doesn't come. I grit my teeth, irritated. It wasn't like I was asking for much.

I spend the day cowering against my own thoughts, each moment guided only with the goal of getting through the day. I'm completely immersed in my own darkness by the time the duo of peacekeepers come in.

The two converse as the one who spoke to me earlier one bends down and grips my arm. He injects something into my veins, but I can tell it's not the same as what I got yesterday. I feel anger build inside of me, and I'm seconds from an outburst when he squeezes my arm slightly before injecting me again. This time, the warmth flows up my arm and I can feel the relaxing effects of drowsiness and morphling.

* * *

This is how it goes:

I wake up each afternoon with a gasp and end up falling into a panic attack as my mind registers the fact that the people I was just talking to no longer exist in this world. Weak and woozy, I drag myself over to the bathroom and spend the first hour or so awake leaning against the toilet until the sickness clears. Eventually I take to lying on the cool bathroom tile all the time, movement virtually eliminated.

By early evening, the guilt will be back in full force. I curl up and come up with countless ways my family could have been saved. Every scenario seems painfully obvious in hindsight.

The endless battle droning on inside does not reflect on the outside. There was never a conscious choice to do so, but I've completely shut down. I make no effort to sustain my life. I'm vaguely aware that one of the injections I keep getting is meant to provide nutrition because there is no other explanation for how I'm getting by without eating or drinking.

Sometimes I'll hear knocking or voices that I attribute to the guards that have made themselves at home. I don't see them until they slip into the room at night and I'm able breathe a sigh of relief as the shots go in. The fading of this world means the forming of one much kinder. These fleeting moments of happiness, though they are only fabrications, are the only bit of light in my life.

What I'm doing is not really living at all. I first become aware that I'm wasting away when I try to lift myself up and find my muscles unable to cooperate. Somehow I had missed my body becoming so fragile and weak. I'm forced to admit to myself that I am dying. I should be alarmed by it, but I have a frightening attitude of indifference.

My schedule is interrupted when the peacekeepers don't come to bring me my injections one night. My skin tenses as if pins are pricking me. I try to count my breaths to mark the passing time. I can't even reach one hundred without anxiety taking over. I can't face the night alone! I try to pull myself up to no avail.

What if they never come back? I need the sedative like I need air to breathe. I am only holding myself together by a thread because I know I will be liberated come night, and Alec and Destan will be right there waiting for me.

I lie on the floor, still and unmoving despite my internal panic. It is terrifying to be completely out of control of both body and mind. Hours of agony later, I hear pounding footsteps rushing through the hall, and I think I might be saved.

The door flies open and hits the wall so hard it must leave a dent. I'm completely taken by surprise when a familiar voice pierces the room.

"Mags! Oh God, don't be dead! No, you can't be dead!" Marilla shrieks, becoming more incomprehensible with each word.

I don't have the strength to pick my head up, but I can feel her kneel down beside me and frantically search me for any sign of life. The sobbing masks her hysterical words. All I can think is I can count the number of times I've seen Marilla cry in my lifetime. She was always the strong one.

Then I feel instantly guilty that I haven't thought about her much since my life fell apart. She's my family; I should have been worried about Snow discovering her involvement. I should have been staying up at night hoping that she was safe. Instead, I've been drowned in my own grief.

Her shaking hands grip mine as she feels for a pulse. I find it in me to twitch a finger. It's silent for a long moment. Then she holds my hand against her face and cries into the palm.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she repeats again and again. I can't figure out what she has to apologize for. If anything, I owe her an apology.

"Just keep holding on, Mags. I'm going to get help," she tells me. I think she's going to leave and come back, but her hands slide under me very carefully, as if too much force would break me. She pulls me up and half-carries, half-drags me through the house.

By the time we reach the living room, she's losing it. She sets me on the sofa and I watch as she paces around the room, unable to catch her breath. I've never seen her this frantic. I wish I could reach out and help her.

Marilla stops in her tracks and darts to the kitchen. She's back seconds later, a phone and pad of paper in hand. I recognize it to be the paper I write down phone numbers on. "I'm calling the hospital," she announces.

I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat. I don't want to go there, where I'll have to lie in bed and be fed through tubes as everyone crowds around me. The hospital has always been under Capitol jurisdiction. Once I step foot in there, what happens to me becomes everyone's business. I can't deal with that right now. I don't want the world to see me like this.

"No," I say as loudly as I can. It comes out as an odd sound, somehow managing to be both high-pitched and hoarse from misuse.

I don't think Marilla will understand the word, but she must because she looks at me with wide eyes. "We both know you're in no position to reject help," she says in disapproval.

I'm not sure how I find it in me to talk, but I manage. "There's another doctor," I say, barely comprehensibly.

My cousin looks down at the pad again and flips the page. She frowns in disappointment. "You mean the one who delivered…never mind. The point is, she's not a professional doctor. You need real medicine, not herbs."

I don't know what to say, so I just stare forward, too weak to argue.

"You have no idea how terrible you look," Marilla says. Her sobbing is under control now, but her face is still wet with tears. "You look like you just crawled out of a _casket_, Mags! We've all been trying to come save you from this house for weeks! I didn't come this far just to see you refuse to be helped."

"Wait till morning," I relent. Marilla sighs and sits by the foot of the sofa, leaning her head next to mine.

There is so much I want to ask. I gather my strength and force out a question. "How much does everyone know?"

She closes her eyes before responding. "Now isn't the time to play catch-up. I don't think that's best for your health right now."

That only makes me more concerned. I automatically come up with endless bad scenarios. All of this is torturing my mind: the thought of my family trying to force open doors as I shut out the world, the possibility that the story of what happened may have been skewed horribly. I want to know what I've missed, but at the same time, I want to stop thinking. I need the sedative to distract me from all of this.

"There's medicine in a syringe that I take every night. I need it," I whisper.

She opens her eyes and studies me carefully. "I'm guessing it's morphling? You're already looking green. I don't think that's a good idea."

I'm fairly certain there's morphling in it, but I don't feel like explaining the full effects of the serum. I simply mouth the word _please. _

She shakes her head defiantly, but it's less than five minutes before she breaks down and gives in. I hear her fumble around the cabinets in the other room, and when she comes back, she approaches me cautiously.

"Promise me this won't do anything besides put you to sleep for a few hours. You do want to get better, right?"

"That's all it does," I answer weakly, making sure to avoid the second question.

The corners of Marilla's mouth pull down into a frown. "I know you miss them, but it's going to get easier. You just have to-"

That strikes a nerve. "I don't just miss them, Marilla!" I screech, my voice coming back stronger than I thought possible. "They were my life! It's not something I can get over!" My throat aches and I regret yelling at her. When I speak again, it's much softer and more composed. "The only easy thing would be to give in."

"If you really wanted to die, you would be long gone by now," Marilla responds. I don't have anything to say to that. Her words pound in my head as she holds my bony arm and pushes the syringe down.

Almost immediately, I lose track of what I was thinking. Everything is dark and warm as the world fades away.

The next thing I know, I'm in the kitchen preparing dinner like any other day. I look around, a little confused. There's something tugging at the back of my mind that feels so familiar, yet I can't put my finger on it.

The front door creaks open and Alec and Destan come in, looking exhausted after a long day out on the boat.

"Mom, look what I got!" Destan exclaims, holding up a fish that couldn't be more than a few inches long, but I share his excitement nonetheless. My breath catches in the back of my throat and relief floods through me. For some reason, I thought they weren't coming back. Once again, the feeling of familiarity attached to it surprises me. It's as if I've been through this again and again.

"That's great, Destan!" I say, my voice excited but shakier than I intended. I bend down and hold my son against me, running my hand through his brown hair and smelling the scent of the ocean. He's here, he's fine.

"Everything okay, Mags?" Alec asks, raising an eyebrow at my shaky tone. Just the sound of his voice makes me feel safer and pulls me down to reality.

I stand up and wrap my arms around him so I know he won't disappear. My hands find their way to his neck and I lean up and kiss him. It's more than a welcome home kiss, and I use it to convey all these confusing emotions that don't make enough sense to vocalize.

I can tell Alec is surprised at first, but he goes along with it and we don't stop until Destan makes a little grunt of disapproval. Then laughter bubbles inside of me.

"Not everyone here wants to watch that," Destan chastises.

"What? I'm just really happy to see my two favorite people," I smile. "I have no idea what I would do without you guys."

"That's your mom, kid; always the overly sentimental one," Alec jokes as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

"Joke about it all you want," I say. I suddenly feel too giddy to even remember why I was worried. There's a spring in my step for the rest of the night, and the smile doesn't leave my face. Alec and Destan look at me curiously, sometimes exchanging a few glances of their own, but they don't question it.

After dinner, I play a game with Destan and soon it is his bedtime. I run my hand over his perfect little cheek as he drifts off to sleep.

"I love you so much," I whisper even though I know he is off in dreamland. The word dream gives me that feeling again, like something is on the brink of my consciousness.

I walk back to the living room, perplexed. "I think this is the first time all day you haven't been smiling," Alec notes. I plop down on the sofa and lean against him like always.

"I had the weirdest feeling earlier," I confess. "It was like…I thought something horrible had happened. That's why I was so happy when you two came through the door. Crazy, right?"

I wait for him to confirm how ridiculous it is; to laugh it off with some sarcastic comment and reassure me that nothing like that would ever happen. It takes me off guard when the answer comes.

"No."

"What do you mean?" I demand, searching his expression. His features suddenly become more composed and serious.

His green eyes bore into mine. "You have to listen to me carefully and stay calm," he begins. Whatever he's about to say, I know I don't want to hear it. My head is throbbing and my heart rate quickens. It almost looks like the room is becoming fuzzy.

"I said you have to stay calm," he says gently. I look straight ahead and try to focus on the curve of his jawline as I take deep breaths. "Mags, none of this is real," he says.

I jump to deny it instantly, but my head is killing me and somewhere deep inside, I know what he means. "Yes it is! What are you talking about? This isn't funny, Alec," I say.

An image captivates my mind. A memory. I see Alec and Destan being pushed into water. I can't think anymore. That didn't happen. It couldn't have because Alec is right here next to me.

"No no no no no no," I gasp. The images keep flooding back, and I'm suddenly aware that I'm under the serum. He's not really here.

Alec's hands are on my arms, but I can't feel them. It's only air. Already, the background of my dreamscape is turning white and I'm aware of my body lying on the sofa. I'm positive that I can open my eyes right now and I will be back in cold, painful reality. The more I panic, the more everything fades away.

"Mags, use your senses," a voice says. It must be Alec, but it doesn't sound very much like him anymore.

"That doesn't make any sense!" I cry.

He speaks again, and this time it sounds more like my husband. "See, you listened to me and it's coming back. Focus on what you hear. Feel textures. Trick your mind into thinking this is real and you'll stay."

I'm barely hanging onto this dream. I can feel the pull to open my eyes, but I try my best to follow the advice. I listen to the sound of his voice and run my fingers over his rough hands. I smell the subtle scent of linen and the fish that Destan brought home earlier. I can still fade away at the drop of a pen, but I'm feeling more in control now.

Stuck halfway in consciousness, I'm not quite sure what is reality and what's not. "Is this really you, or am I making you up in this dream?" I ask breathlessly.

"Do I seem real to you?" he questions back. I nod unsurely. "Then that's all that matters," he says.

It doesn't answer my question. Even if he had confirmed he was really there, though, how could I be sure? I don't think I even believe it's possible for the deceased to visit in dreams. It could easily be a trick of my mind, but it comforts me more to believe it's really him.

"Why did you have to tell me this wasn't real?" I ask. "I was perfectly fine believing everything was okay. That's how I've gotten through every other night."

"You would have realized eventually. I'm doing you a favor."

"I'm so sorry, Alec. I never meant for any of this to happen," I cry into his shoulder. "Please tell me you and Destan are okay," I beg, part of me aware that there's a large chance I'm talking to a figment of my imagination.

"You don't need to worry about us. You're the one who's suffering," he says carefully. I know he's right, because that's exactly how Snow intended it to be.

"You have to promise me something right now, Mags. Promise you'll take care of yourself. It kills me to see you like this. You know that's not what I want," he says, his tone serious.

"It's not th-that easy," I respond. "You c-can't just expect me to be okay. This isn't something I can get over."

"I'm not asking you to get over it. I'm saying you have to find a way to go on. There's a reason you're still alive. People are going to need you." His voice is so stern it stings.

"Everyone who needs me ends up dead."

I can tell he's getting frustrated, but I'm not about to make a promise I know I can't keep. "Why do you have to be so stubborn? You keep saying you wished you had listened to me, so why not try listening to me now? It's literally the only thing I have to ask!"

"You're asking the only thing I can't promise…" I trail off. I scowl. "I'd like to see you try to be in my place! Walk around with all this guilt and see nothing but memories you can't get back! It's impossible!" The louder my voice gets, the more the room fades, and I am drifting out again.

"Then try being in my place. Think about what you would want me to do," he says calmly now.

"That's different," I say so softly it's nothing more than a whimper.

"Is it?"

"This is crazy. You're not even here. I'm arguing with myself!" I cry, and then I am back in the living room, Marilla by my side. I want to curl up and die. That wasn't Alec. It couldn't have been. I've never been conscious in a dream before, but I can't let myself believe it was some kind of spiritual visitation.

I gulp hard because I know that even if it was only my imagination, it's still exactly what Alec would say. I know he wouldn't want to see me deteriorate like this. But that doesn't make living any less difficult.

"Alec, if you're out there, help me," I whisper. Unsurprisingly, the only response I get to that is seeing Marilla twitch in her sleep from the sound.

If I'm going to try to find a way to live with this pain, every ounce of effort will be for my family's sake. I can't wrap my mind around how it will be possible. I can only think of the present.

As I watch Marilla sleep, I think of dozens of questions I need to ask her. The future is too hard to process, but at least I know my next step is to get answers.

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**Chapter 33 Guest Review Reply:**

**dusty714: **I know :/ But thank you for the compliment on my writing!


	35. Purpose

**A/N: Wait I actually don't have anything to say here.. That's a first. Hm, well I still want to hear thoughts because I wasn't sure how to set up these last two chapters :)**

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It's been a long time since I've looked at my reflection in the mirror. I stare into the small plane of glass that Marilla holds before me, too stunned to react right away. I knew I would look different, but I still expected to see traces of the face I remember. The woman staring back at me is barely human. Grief doesn't only consume; it transforms.

I blink and open my mouth slowly, testing to see if the reflection does the same. It's me in that mirror, but at the same time, it's not. These hollow cheeks aren't mine. I'm supposed to be thin in a healthy way. Now my skin is barely concealing a skeleton. That skin is supposed to have the golden tint of a District Four tan. Instead, I see pale gray with a tinge of green that frames sunken eyes.

Once the initial shock has faded, the face in the mirror becomes frightening. It reminds me how far into the darkness I've fallen, and I can't look without reliving exactly what brought me to this point.

I drop my gaze. Looking down, I can see how bones jut out from underneath the clothes that stick to my skin. These clothes! How had I not noticed the dirty, fraying fabric glue itself to me? How many weeks has it been since I put them on?

Suddenly I feel sick. This is horrifying, and I've been blind to it all until now. I'm not so sure I want to start dealing with it either. There are too many broken pieces to attempt rebuilding what has been destroyed. Even if it is possible, I will never be the same as I was before.

What would Alec say if he saw me like this? I wonder if he would be as ashamed and embarrassed as I feel. I'm sure Destan would run away from me because I look anything but motherly.

"What do you think?" Marilla asks carefully. I remember a time when people used to say we look alike. That couldn't be less true now.

I shake my head. My throat is closing up and I know that means a breakdown can't be far behind. I try to think of something to say, but there are no words.

While Marilla runs the mirror back, I replay last night's dream in my head. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced. With a degree of irrationality, I wonder what would happen if I found a way to hang onto the dreams indefinitely. I would rather live out my life there even if I knew it was fake.

I'm interrupted from my thoughts by the sight of Marilla carrying a plastic plate. "You know I suck at cooking, so I brought you some crackers. We'll get you some better food in a few hours but I figured you should eat."

She sets the plate next to me and hands me a glass of water. I reach for it with difficulty, and as soon as I think I have it, it slips trough my shaking hand and half of it spills. Marilla grabs for the glass with quick reflexes and saves it before it shatters. She tries to give it to me by raising the cup to my mouth instead, and I do my best to comply. I choke as some falls into my windpipe. "Sorry, I'm no good at this," Marilla groans.

"You're doing fine," I tell her. It's not much, but it's the most I can do to cheer her up.

She doesn't look convinced. "The family's on their way right now. I just called them a few minutes ago. We're all going to the doctor after they get here," she says.

As much as I would like to see them, I'm horrified by the thought of them seeing me like this. I'm going to see the look of dismay on their faces as they take in my corpse-like appearance, no matter how hard they try to hide it. Maybe that I can take, but if they all try to talk to me about Alec and Destan at once, I might lose it.

There are plenty of answers I need to get from Marilla, and I might not be able to get them when the others are here.

"I have some questions," I say hoarsely. My speaking ability has more or less recovered, though I still need to keep my voice low and take breaks between sentences.

"I'll try to answer some," Marilla says reluctantly, "but I don't think you're ready for the whole story of what you missed."

I frown but decide not to say anything that will change her mind about answering some. I try to start out with something simple, really nothing more than a confirmation of what I think I know. "It's been three months, right? That's why the peacekeepers left?" I ask.

"Three months? Not quite. Around two and a half." A crease forms between her brows as she puts together where I got three months. I forgot that she doesn't know the entire story, either.

"I don't know why the peacekeepers left," she continues. "At least one of us has checked every day and they've always been here. Yesterday, Hallie said she thought she saw a hovercraft, so of course I told her she was losing it. But then I thought maybe it was them leaving, so I ran over here last night and the front door was open and everything."

She breathes deeply, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I have a question, too. Did those men hurt you? Did they torture you or touch you in any way?"

I shake my head and watch as her features relax slightly. Now that I think about it, they easily could have tortured me if they wanted to. I might look like I've been through physical abuse, but my state of being is all my doing.

"I only saw them when they gave me my shots," I say.

"Good," Marilla says. "I'm glad, cause I wouldn't put it past those low lives to do something like that. They're just as bad as the president."

I can't agree with that for two reasons. In my eyes, no one can ever be nearly as criminal as Coriolanus Snow. Not after what he did. Secondly, the peacekeeper I spoke to briefly made me realize that many of them do it only to preserve the safety of their families. It's probably better they keep on living that way, because if one of them decides to stand up for what is right, they might end up having to watch their loved ones die.

I stop myself right there, because the images are already creeping back into my mind. I'm about to ask another question when the front door flies open.

The first ones I see are my parents. They start rushing over to me, but once they get close enough to get a good look at me, they slow down and approach carefully. I can tell the past couple of months have been rough on them as well. My mother has gotten very thin again, as she usually does when she's under stress. I've been on her case about it for years, but I have no room to talk now. She is the epitome of health compared to me.

They bend down in front of me and embrace me the best they can. I watch their eyes travel over me, from my matted clump of hair to my sickly skin and sticky clothes.

"Oh, Mags," my mother says as tears stream down her face. She sits down next to me and puts her arms around me gently. She doesn't promise that things will get better, or that I will move on, and I appreciate that.

When I was young, I thought she was too attached and clingy. Now that I've had my own child, I know that's just how being a mother works. When your child is in pain, you feel every ounce of it. What hurts them hurts you.

I don't mind her holding onto me, either, because I know from my dreams that it's exactly what I would do if Alec or Destan walked through the door right now. When you put your arms around someone, it feels like you're shielding them by casting a wall of protection that will stop them from disappearing again.

No one seems to want to open conversation. It's not hard to figure out the reason why. They're scared the slightest comment with break me. I can understand why, but it makes me a bit uncomfortable to be treated like I'm something fragile.

I hadn't noticed Hallie come in, but she's the first to speak. She leans her head into her fiancé's shoulder and whimpers, "What are we going to do?"

I wish I could sink away; escape from the spotlight I hate so much. I don't mind caring for a victim, but I don't enjoy being one.

"Already called the hospital," Marilla says. "They're going to send a vehicle to bring her there. It costs more but I figured money wasn't an issue."

The stress is building inside of my chest already, but I keep my poker face.

"Did we ever figure out why the peacekeepers were here?" Hallie's fiancé, Noiv, asks. I don't know him very well at all, having only met him officially once before. He looks to be in his mid twenties, and the way he holds Hallie against him leads me to believe he would do anything to protect her.

Automatically, my thoughts shift to Alec, and I'm left longing for what I no longer have. Seeing happy couples is nothing short of pure torture.

I see Marilla shoot him a very calculated look, one that says _we're not discussing that right now. _It's only then that I actually process the question Noiv asked.

"I think we all need to get our story straight," I say, taking a deep breath after I watch my family react in shock that I'm capable of rational speech.

"Did you already tell her about the memorial service they had?" Hallie asks her sister from across the room. My heart drops.

I'm barely aware of what Marilla says next. Suddenly, I am finding it almost impossible to breathe. There was a memorial service. I missed it. All these strangers who didn't even know Alec and Destan got to pay their respects, while I was curled up on a bathroom floor!

Marilla was right; I can't handle this. I need to know what happened, but I can see now that every truth is like a separate poisoned blade just waiting to stab me.

I don't realize I'm shaking until a pair of hands grips my shoulders to hold me in place.

"It's fine that you don't want to know right now," a soothing voice tells me, and I recognize it as my father.

"No, I do," I say without thinking. I thought I had just decided that it's too much to handle, but I'm too stubborn to accept only a tiny piece of the story.

With my eyes squeezed shut and arms holding me together, I'm able to attempt focusing on each breath. Even as I count each inhale, I'm still berating myself for missing the services.

"I've heard two different stories," my father begins. "Quite frankly, I'm still a little confused. The last we saw you was during the president's speech right after the hurricane. Your mother and I picked up a few supplies and then we went home to fix some minor damage to the shutters. My brother was with us too, and everything seemed normal until Marilla came running up, really shaken about something."

"There was a note carved into the outside of my house," Marilla jumps in. "It said 'Be lucky you dodged the bullet this time; you're the only one who did.' Well at first I thought it was some dumb thing about my house avoiding storm damage. Then I showed Hallie and she pointed out something I had missed. Right under it, there was a really tiny signature from Snow."

My eyes are open now, and I'm looking forward anxiously. I'm grateful Marilla wasn't punished in any way, but she was the only one of three, meaning Raini wasn't spared. Raini. I think about the young girl with the red hair and an equally fiery temper. The girl who begged me to help her with this plan because she was being forced into what was basically voluntary rape.

For the millionth time today, I'm horrified at myself. I know I've had my own grief to deal with, but it is inexcusable that I haven't even worried about what may have happened to her. Has she been locked away and meant to suffer her own personal hell as I have the past two months? Did she even survive her confrontation with Snow?

"Raini," I gasp, unintentionally interrupting my father, who had begun talking again. Has anyone even checked on her? It was supposed to be my responsibility to help her through this life, no matter how much she resists my efforts. She's only seventeen. I'm just a few years short of being twice her age, and I can't even care for myself. How many people have I failed while I've been trapped in my own darkness?

"I'll get to that later," Marilla says quickly.

I find it harder to listen now as my father continues the story. "Anyway, she got to the house and started talking really fast. She said she was scared something had happened to you. We couldn't get her to share why, but we rushed to your house and it was locked. We kept banging on the doors but eventually some peacekeepers came out and forced us home at gunpoint.

"None of it made any sense. We were all terrified, and the only one who seemed to know what was going on was Marilla. Eventually we had to force information out of her. She told us about the plan you two were involved with, that it was you guys who had started all the commotion with the rumors. I still don't know all the details on that, but it's my understanding that as a victor, you know more about Snow than the rest of us," he stops there, his face growing pale.

"It made some of the things I had heard the weeks before make a lot more sense, but that's not what we were worried about. That…that was one of the worst nights of my life. We had no clue where you or your family were, or if you were even alive, and peacekeepers wouldn't let us near the house. It was that night the TV came on automatically, saying there had been a horrible accident in District Four that resulted in the death of a victor. Then we saw that it was Alec," he pauses to wince, "and we started to panic."

He checks on me to make sure I'm okay with him continuing. What he doesn't know is that I had to _watch _the murders. I'm forced back into the memory, and I cannot understand how I am still sitting here in one piece. My heart is split and it feels like the rest of me is, too.

When he continues, his voice is careful and laced with uncertainty. "They said he had gone out to his boat that afternoon when the waves were still pretty choppy. The boat presumably capsized while him and Destan were on it. They didn't call Destan by name. They just said there was a child with him, and it was assumed that it was his child. Not many people knew about Destan, so there was some talk…" he trails off.

"We were crushed. Our son-in-law, our little grandson. There are no words," he sighs. "The worst part was knowing that it wasn't an accident at all. We didn't know where you were, but it made it seem that you were alive. The story was that you were too depressed to leave the house, but we saw the peacekeepers every day. Until now," he ends shakily. He rests his wrinkled face into his rough hands and sighs.

As I look at the wrinkles, I think back to something Destan had said. _Pawpaw's are supposed to have wrinkles, Mom._ My dad loved being a grandpa, and it stings knowing I will never see him playing with my son again.

"They had a memorial in the Capitol for Alec, since he is a fallen victor. It wasn't an actual service or burial, just a bunch of Capitol citizens claiming to know him personally. It was obvious they didn't," Hallie says in distaste.

I guess I should feel a tiny bit better knowing that I didn't actually miss a memorial service after all, but I feel no ounce of relief. In fact, the thoughts and emotions are weighing me down so much that I would like nothing more than to shut down now.

"Do you feel up to sharing your side of the story?" my mother asks, barely comprehensible through her tears. I should be crying too, but I can't anymore. I only shake my head slightly. There's no way I can talk about what I saw that day, or explain the visions that have haunted me since. The easiest thing to discuss would be the dreams, and I can't do that without presenting myself as mentally unstable.

"Just in time," Marilla says quietly. At first I have no idea what she's talking about, but then I hear the slam of a door outside, and a knocking sound comes seconds later.

A young, muscular man comes in and it isn't long before I'm hoisted onto a stretcher and placed in the back of the vehicle. It isn't one of the grandiose cars that I've seen in the Capitol, but they keep a few vehicles around Four for purposes such as these.

Without paved roads, the ride to the hospital is very bumpy. Each shallow hole in the road rattles me inside the car, and I start to question why it is taking so long for us to get there. I feel sick, claustrophobic, and just plain drained from the day already. I've had plenty of distractions from my own grief, but they've only briefly separated me from my mourning and added on new levels of guilt as well.

The car stops abruptly and I'm jolted forward, my heart racing. I'm removed from the car and carried into a room. The hospital itself is bland and unremarkable, having only plain white walls and "rooms" separated by plain curtains. Four is one of the few districts that can afford a hospital, but I'm quickly reminded that it is no Capitol.

Over the next few hours, I'm poked and prodded as tests are run on me. People look at me with wide eyes, but none make an effort to talk to me except the doctor himself. Even he tries to stay away from the personal details, instead focusing only on my physical symptoms. A pair of people have to cut my clothes off to remove them and proceed to wash me. After years of prep work, I am unfazed by this.

It's only when one on them tries to wiggle the ring off my finger that I instinctively pull back. The sudden movement makes my muscles throb, but there is no way they are taking my wedding ring from me. The thin band topped by a pearl carries precious memories of my husband. He's already been taken from me; I'm not giving up any connection I have left.

Thankfully, they don't push the issue any further. Later, I'm put into an uncomfortable hospital bed and my family crowds the tiny room. The doctor speaks in a very calm and emotionally removed tone as he lists off my problems: malnutrition, dehydration, low blood pressure, decreased circulation, mottled veins…the list goes on and on, and eventually I tune it out.

He ends his speech by declaring it severe depression and possibly post traumatic stress disorder. I doubt anyone is shocked by that. I know I'm not.

I have nothing to do but lean back in the bed and try not to think. Of course, that doesn't go so well, and I remember that I never found out what Marilla knew about Raini. I call her over to the bed and she leans by the side, resting her chin on the metal bar.

"What's going on with Raini?" I ask quietly.

Marilla's voice is equally low when she responds. "She's alive. I don't think her father is…She isn't Panem's favorite person at the moment. A lot of crap about her came up after everything went down. There was this whole story about how she may or may not have been involved in an accidental murder at the Career School a few years back. The main thing though was they kind of pinned the District Four unrest on her. Lots of gossip," she says with a frown.

I frown, too. "Has anyone been checking on her?"

Marilla's lips press into a flat line. "We never really got along, but I felt so bad for the kid that I would have felt horrible not going check. There was a peacekeeper there, looking miserable, let me tell you. She was there too, apparently healthy enough to open the door and scream at me to leave her the hell alone. She was bruised up pretty bad and I could tell she was probably too embarrassed to talk, but I don't think she's going down without a fight. I'm more worried about you, honestly."

I know Raini has a thicker skin than I do, but I still feel awful about what happened to her. I don't know how close she was to her dad, but if she experienced even a fraction of the grief I have, it's not good enough to just assume she'll work it out herself.

I have to wonder what will happen the next time we are called to the Capitol for the Games. Will she still be forced into the appointments? I would hope that the poor public opinion would at least save her from _that. _Maybe since she's lost so much already, Snow won't have anything on her to force her to. When I realize what I'm thinking, I automatically feel sick. How wrong it is to try to justify any of this. Getting out of Snow's prostitution program would hardly be a victory after the price we have all paid, and I know in the end, we did nothing to stop it from happening to the other kids.

All of this was for nothing. It seems like that sentence can drain the entire world of meaning. What is the point of any of this suffering, if it hasn't helped a single soul?

I can't shake that dreary outlook on life for the rest of the time I spend cooped up in bed. Each day is the same. I lay. I try not to think. I think anyway. A tube in my arms feeds something into my veins that is meant to make me stronger. The effects work very slowly, but after a few days, there is a noticeable difference in my muscle strength and the tone of my skin.

Without the powerful sedative, my dreams are not as vivid and real as they once were, and that devastates me. For the most part, my moments of unconsciousness are still peaceful and kind, but the fleeting moments of happiness do not last nearly long enough. I'm told the withdrawal symptoms will go away, and that I'm better off without it. Truthfully, I don't believe the second part of that. As unhealthy as it is to live through fantasy, I know I'm better off being able to see Alec and Destan as much as possible.

There is always a family member in the room with me. Starting on the third day of my stay, Kallan begins dropping in periodically. He sits on the side of the room, looking monstrous in the tiny plastic chairs, and recounts different times he had with Alec. It hurts to hear, especially since I can hear the pain in his voice. Alec was like a brother to him, and Destan was a nephew.

Despite this, I find myself completely engrossed in the stories because he has a way of telling them that makes it seem like they are happening in the present; like they could walk through the door at any second and finish the story.

The only unexpected visitor comes at the very end of my stay, when I am almost physically healthy enough to move around on my own. When I awake from my doze, I am shocked to see the woman who delivered Destan standing at the foot of my bed.

"I didn't mean to startle you," she comments after I jump in surprise.

"It's fine. I just didn't expect to see you," I say.

She looks proper with her brown hair pulled back and a pair of glasses adorning her face. Her body is unmoving and her expression is sympathetic when she speaks next. "I know your pain."

I nod because she knows what it feels like to lose a child. I was one of the last ones to see her daughter, as I mentored her several years back. It pained me to see that innocent girl die, but now I understand the kind of unparalleled heartache her mother went through.

"It's the worst," I respond. "How have you- how is it _possible _to get through this?" I ask in desperation.

"You have to give yourself a reason," she says. I'm surprised by how fast she answered that. No consideration or hesitation went into her response.

"I know they wouldn't want me to suffer, and my family expects me to get better, but I'm still struggling to see the point to any of this," I admit.

"Life only has meaning if you give it one," she says after a minute. In the quiet that follows, I think about that. I had given my life meaning through trying to be a good wife and mother. Now that my reason is gone, I'm left rudderless.

"I find it helpful to set a life goal to work towards. Pain is a struggle, but it gives us meaning by helping point us in the right direction to bring change. There must be something you want to change about how the world works," she says.

"You have no idea," I say. What she doesn't know is that I've already tried, and that's what got me into this mess. I have strong beliefs about how this world should be. I wanted to make a difference and ease over the corruption. I wanted a world where wealth would be distributed equally, where thousands aren't forced to starve so a select few could gorge themselves. I wanted a world where teenagers aren't shipped off a death match that will ruin their lives even if they manage to survive.

I wanted a world where political leaders don't force children into consenting to rape and where people can express their honest opinion without risking their families.

I tried to get that world, and I failed.

"Well those kids need your help," the nurse says. I know she's talking about the kids I mentor each year, and how they will need advice and emotional encouragement. But the help they really need goes so much deeper. The only way they can truly be saved is by changing the way the world works.

"I have to go now. I hope I gave you something to think about, Mrs. Calder," she says.

It does give me a lot to think about. It just seems impossible that it could make any difference, and I've already paid the price for trying. Why work towards a life goal that is impossible anyway?

As my hospital stay comes to an end, I realize I'm going to have to go back and face the house. Even with family helping me along the way, I can't face those empty rooms knowing their deaths were for naught.

Maybe I can't bring change the way I wanted to, but I can take small steps and lay foundations. I don't want to risk the loved ones I have left, so anything major is out of the question.

Even if it takes years, I will think of a plan. I owe it to Alec and Destan to finish what I started so their deaths won't be in vain. It might take a while for the spark to be lit, but Snow will get what he deserves.

There will be a reason to endure this pain.


	36. Discover

**A/N: Has it been a month already? D: I know how much it sucks to wait forever for an update. Next one will be MUCH faster, I promise, so please don't give up on me! This is the first of two transition chapters and Mags is about 50. Hope y'all have an awesome Easter/ spring break**

* * *

The young man flinches in surprise at the sound of books hitting his desk. He spins around with a theatrical gasp and his eyes flit nervously around the room before settling on me.

"I forgot you were coming," he admits, more relaxed now. He grabs the stack of books and pulls them against the purple suit that hugs his plump body.

"I'm not mentoring this year. It's easier for me to leave without being noticed," I respond.

"And no one saw you carrying these around, right?"

"Of course not," I frown. "I thought you would trust me with this by now."

"I know, I know," he sighs. "But this is my life on the line. Only a few people in all of Panem know about these books. If someone found out I was lending them out…" He shudders at the thought.

"Plutarch, we're on the same team here. There's a reason these histories are locked up. They're scared what will happen if the public is educated. We can't change things without understanding what failed in the past," I say.

I look over the man in front of me. He's pretty young, probably in his twenties, and he's dressed in the flashy clothes of the average Capitolite. He might look just like the rest of them, but our brief exchanges over the years have revealed that he sees the world much differently. His version of an ideal Panem is very similar to the vision I've been chasing for the past twenty years.

Twenty years. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Twenty years since the time when I thought I couldn't make it through another day. I felt the time passing as I struggled to rebuild my life and put purpose in my actions, but it still amazes me how the years have added up. The resentment is still there, because time can't fix everything, yet I've managed to survive the worst life could possibly throw at me. That has to count for something, right?

I'm so engulfed in these thoughts that it takes me a minute to realize Plutarch is speaking. "…and I have to say, that book was my favorite. It was mostly about the forming of Panem, but I did enjoy the chapter about the old countries. Can you imagine if each district could vote to decide things? Oh, and did you see the part about the other continents? It makes me wonder if there are still other civilizations out there," he babbles, his eyes taking on a particular glint of excitement.

"It wouldn't surprise me if they are out there and Snow chooses not to tell us." I don't add that I would feel better if there _weren't _any other people besides citizens of Panem. Acknowledging that there are others out there means acknowledging that humankind doesn't have enough compassion to help those being oppressed. Unless they are even worse off, that is.

"I'm not too worried about that. I'm getting older and I just want to see change here before I go," I add.

It's quiet for a minute. "Do you think it could happen?" Plutarch asks. "It's one thing to read about it and another to make it happen. Sometimes I think that if I didn't grow up as the bookkeeper's son, I would have turned out just like the rest of the people here. People can be swayed, but is what we're doing even going to make a difference?"

"For my own sanity, I have to tell myself it will," I say decisively.

He looks at me curiously, but I offer no explanation. I can't describe how this mission is the only thing that kept me from giving up on life. I can't put into words how I feel it's the only way to make up for what has happened in the past. Even if I haven't accomplished much, I have to believe that every little bit of research is building towards the greater goal.

I clear my throat in nervous discomfort and pull a folded piece of paper out of my pocket. "I have word that there was a book written indirectly about President Snow. Do you think it would be here?" I ask. My fingers smooth over the creases in the paper before giving it to Plutarch. Printed on it is the name of the book.

"Hmm, I've never heard of a book called _Shadow of Influence_," Plutarch says, "but if Snow knows about it and doesn't want anyone else to read it, I'm sure it's here."

Without another word, he rises from the desk and I follow him down a set of stairs hidden behind a bookcase. They lead to a messy little living area. I pause and wait patiently as Plutarch retrieves a key and opens a door to a room that contains secrets hidden from the rest of the world. I can't help but think how his family must be held in high esteem to be placed in charge of something so private. I wonder briefly if his parents share his opinions, or if they even looked at the books at all.

Once I'm on that train of thought, it occurs to me that Plutarch would have been born within a few years of Destan. I can find no sign of resemblance between the two, but just the thought is enough to get me picturing what it would have been like to have an adult son.

It happens all the time when I have to mentor. No matter how hard I try not to, I always end up drawing connections between the male tributes and how Destan might have been at their age.

It makes it hard not to get attached.

Hard as it is, I have to resist. I'm free to gamble with my own safety, but I know better than to put any of the shell-shocked kids at risk when they still have so much to lose.

I look around the living room, noting all the areas of disarray. The air is heavy with dust that brushes against my nose and makes me feel like sneezing. I can't stop myself from making little efforts to tidy it up as I wait. It's not that I'm such a neat freak I can't stand being in the room; it just feels natural.

I'm fine being the me that I am. I know that trying to make a difference is better than being passive. It's something I've always believed in. I was okay with adopting this identity to pull myself out of my darkest times because it has always been part of who I am.

The social activist thoughts and idealistic visions of how things should be are part of me, but it's only a portion. A bigger part of me is the me who wants to take care of people. The me who is better suited for putting a comforting hand on someone's shoulders and promising to always look out for them. The me who wants to share bits and pieces of advice I've gathered from trying to untangle this big mess that is life. I'm fine with the me I am, but it's not the me I really wish to be.

Even doing something as small as picking up clothes off the floor makes me feel connected with the other side of who I am. It's something I miss doing when I'm alone in that big, spotless house.

It takes about twenty minutes for Plutarch to reemerge from the private room. "Sure enough, it was there," he announces, holding up the dull red book. "That must mean there's good information in it. Look, it was written by someone named G. Snow. It could have been a brother or father."

"Thank you so much!" I say with a genuine smile after he hands me the book.

"It's no problem. What are you hoping to find in it?" the large young man asks.

"I'm sure there are some secrets in here that would make Snow vulnerable. I'm not looking to sympathize with Snow- I don't think I ever can- but I am interested in his backstory. I guess it's just morbid curiosity," I say.

"I'd like to read it when you bring it back," he says. He glances around the room, probably noticing that it's a little straighter than he left it, but he doesn't comment on it.

"I can't wait to read it. Thanks again," I say, ready to make my exit.

"See you next time," he says, turning his attention elsewhere.

Once I'm out in the sunlight, I tuck the book into my bag and take a deep breath. No one's around, so I'm not worried about anyone seeing me.

"We're getting there, Alec. Today we're one step closer," I whisper into the empty air.

* * *

I curl up on the left side of my bed and lift the paperback book off the nightstand. I have to hold it several inches from my face for the words to come into focus, courtesy of the inevitable effects aging has on eyesight.

There's no telling what lies in the pages of this book. All I know is that it was written by a family member of the president, and that it may or may not contain valuable information on what actions led to an eighteen year old securing the highest title of power in Panem.

What must have gone wrong in the course of his life to turn him into the cold, manipulative man I've encountered? No one is born like that. All children have roughly the same traits: innocence, blind trust, imagination, a view that the world is a place full of goodness and wonder.

Something had to crush that innocence. Saying that I'm not curious to know what made him capable of such cruelty would be a blatant lie. No matter the circumstances, I don't think I can ever pity him. I'll never think of him as the poor victim, the one who has goodness radiating beneath the layer of dusk. Just the reminder of what he's done to me and countless others will silence any empathy.

I only hope that I find information that will help serve my purposes. With that in mind, I open the book to the first page. My eyes begin slowly scanning over the page, taking time to process each word.

_My father always said that the true mark of a successful life is having the world know your name. He always spoke these words with a bitter tone. We all knew that Father was once a man of great power, but he lost it at the hands of a rival, and that was not a mistake he would ever allow his sons to make. _

_ When I was very young, my family lived in a penthouse apartment just north of City Circle. My father was President Burns' political advisor, though at times he seemed more like a servant. See, Father was never one to hold his tongue when he felt like he was being wronged. For a long time, he and Burns were on the same social tier, and it was a toss-up between who would take the role of President. _

_ Father claimed it was blackmail that made him lose to his rival. Whenever anything went wrong around the house, even if it was something as simple as a canceled television program, it was blamed on Burns. I thought it was just a running joke for a long time, but Father was always eerily serious. It was this barely concealed hostility that got him severely demoted and forced my family to move to a middle class neighborhood. _

_ From then on, Father was different. There used to be times when he could put away work and politics and be the dad I needed. I still have faint memories of him taking me to the park and sitting me on his shoulders to watch the monthly firework shows. That all ended after the demotion. Now he forced textbooks and old histories upon my brother and I, making us study for hours on end while the other children got to play outside. _

_I despised him for this. Nothing I did could ever be good enough in his eyes. I was nothing but a blank slate that he could mold to correct his past mistakes, and he was disappointed when I couldn't act in accordance to his expectations. All that mattered to him was that I become President one day to make up for what he never had. Anything less than this achievement would be failure._

_ I wanted nothing to do with it. I pretended to be sick and snuck out my window when it came time for our sessions. I ate in my room so I wouldn't have to talk to him. I could never conform because I missed the old Father. I remembered a time when life was carefree and I could have a normal childhood. _

_My younger brother Coriolanus didn't have that luxury. He was just a toddler when we moved out of the penthouse. He didn't know how Father had been before and he thought the lessons were just a normal part of life. One thing he did see, however, was that Father paid more attention to me. I was supposed to be the one destined for great things. _

_Coriolanus was just another variable in the plan; never the main focus. It was only becoming that the eldest son should bring honor to his father's name. Of course, my brother couldn't understand this. All he saw was that Father ignored him. Coro threw himself into the books and studied day and night just for a chance to impress Father with his knowledge._

_It took a few years for him to take note of his youngest son's efforts. By this time, he was just about fed up with me. I remember one day when I was sixteen, I tried to escape and take on a new identity so I could start a life outside of his shadow. I foolishly thought I could make it on my own as a famous writer. Needless to say, it was not a good day for me when I got caught. I was too embarrassed to leave home and explain my black eye, but I didn't want to face my family, either. I think that was the point when Father started to give up on me and put more hope into my brother._

_I would put money on the claim that Coro was something of a prodigy. Sometimes I was jealous of him, but then I would remember that I actually had a childhood, and that's something he was robbed of. I don't remember him ever having a single friend over. When I would go to parties during the annual Hunger Games, he sat in front the TV and took notes. Father was never happy with Coro's weak physical stature, but he did see potential in his intellect. Every time he would throw him a bone by saying he was proud, it only fueled my brother's will._

_Just when I thought Father was done nagging me, he took it upon himself to secure me my first job. I was only seventeen, yet I had been given the impressive title of Gamemaker. I still don't know what strings he had to pull to make that happen, but I remember clearly the look of disdain on his face at my less than enthusiastic reaction to the news. _

_It was safer for me to go just along with his plans. While the other gamemakers discussed maps and plans for the arena, I sat by idly and wrote stories on scraps of paper. The only real contribution I had that year was something I had stolen from Coro. One night he had suggested the idea of putting a sole water source right in the middle of the arena so tributes would be forced to approach it, and, by extension, each other. _

I pause from reading and close my eyes lightly as I visualize a distant memory. Some experiences stay glued in your memory longer than others. Time has not taken away the image of the endless grass field interrupted only by a lake. I swam in that lake. I walked on the hard-packed barren soil that surrounded it.

It's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that Snow was able to impact my life even back then, when he was only a child. I try to call to mind the gamemakers who watched me during my training session, but that's a detail my brain hasn't held on to.

I decide it's best for me to remain emotionally unattached to anything I've read. It's shockingly easy to do.

With one hand, I flip through the pages of the book like it's a deck of cards. Maybe somewhere hidden in here is the lucky card that will explain what happened in the weeks following Burns' death, when all of Snow's political rivals mysteriously dropped dead. Maybe that's just wishful thinking.

I glance at the clock on the nightstand to find that it is just past twelve. Today is one of the rare days where I'm expecting company. There isn't much I have to do to get ready, but I pull myself off the bed and slip into some comfortable day clothes.

It's only Hallie's family coming over, something I might not have been overly excited about years ago. After she got married, her and her husband moved about an hour away before starting their own family. Now they are back in town to visit her elderly parents.

I've only seen her kids a handful of times over the years, so I'm happy that they will be staying at my house for the next few days. To them I'm just a distant relative that they don't know. The kind of relative who will embarrass them with accounts on how much they've grown and things I remember them doing as babies.

I smile fondly at the memory of those stranger relatives my parents made me talk to when I was a teen. Now I can understand where they were coming from.

It's a while before I hear a ring at the doorbell. I undo the locks and tell them to come on it. As always, Hallie looks at me with concern for a second, checking for any trace of the woman who had a life threatening breakdown years ago. She always does her best to cover it up by smiling widely a second later.

"Mags! It's so great to see you again! Are you sure it's okay for us to stay here? We can always crash at my sister's instead," she says as she pulls me into a hug.

"Of course you can stay here! What's the use in having this huge house if the rooms aren't used every once in a while?" I answer.

"Whoa, they weren't kidding when they said victor houses were big," a voice says. I turn around immediately to see Hallie's son and daughter looking around the house in awe.

"Oh my goodness…when did they grow up?" I say before I can stop myself. I knew they would be much bigger than the last time I saw them, but I was mentally expecting children rather than teenagers. Both of them are taller than me now.

Hallie laughs beside me. "I keep asking myself the same thing. Kai, Berri, do you two remember my cousin Mags?"

"Sorta," Kai says with a shrug. He must be about sixteen or seventeen now, and I can see some resemblance between him and the uncle he was named after.

Berrimilla just shakes her head slightly. She's around thirteen and is tall but spindly, as many girls her age are. The way she brushes back her honey colored hair and stands hidden behind her brother makes her look shy, but from what Hallie has told me, she's very talkative around people she knows.

"You guys can go put your bags in the room down the hall. I have some food in the oven right now," I say.

We eat dinner together a few hours later before Hallie brings them to visit the grandparents they so rarely see. It's late by the time they get back and the kids sleep in the next morning.

I sit at the table with my book in hand as Hallie hurriedly gets her things together. "I told my dad we would be there at ten and I would take them to the little fishing shop in town. The kids should already be up and now we're going to be late," she complains.

I just grin and shake my head. "Hallie, if there's anything I've learned about teenagers from all those years of mentoring, it's that they value their sleep. Might as well just let them wake up on their own time and they can meet you later."

It's quiet as I think about all the times I've had to pull tributes out of bed by their feet just to have them sit at the breakfast table with their arms folded as if the world is out to get them. Hallie must be thinking about her own experiences at home because it isn't long before she agrees.

When she's gone, I pick the book back up and carefully flip through pages until I hear groggy voices and footsteps coming down the hall. Kai and Berri look around, confused.

"Have you seen our mom?" Kai asks with a yawn.

"She went into town with your grandparents. Why don't you two eat some breakfast, and then you can catch up with them later. I can bring you or I can call your Aunt Marilla."

"I think we're old enough to handle getting there by ourselves," Kai says, and for a second, all I can hear is the cousin I lost a long time ago.

Berri shoots him a look. "Sorry, he didn't mean to be rude, Aunt…um, Mrs. Mags."

"Technically we're cousins but you can call me aunt if you'd like," I say warmly as I push the basket of seaweed-tinted rolls across the table to them.

They both reach forward to grab a roll. "Hmm, I wonder if that makes us second cousins or third cousins, or something about once or twice removed…" Berri muses as she eats.

"I don't get why it has to be so complicated," Kai comments.

"Well I just wanted to know so I have something to tell Fisk. You know how he's always bragging that his uncle won the Hunger Games. He should know he isn't the only one with a victor relative."

I had been trying to focus on my reading, but my eyes keep rescanning the same passage, my thoughts distracted by the conversation I'm hearing. "You said one of your friends at school has an uncle who's a victor? Which victor is it?" I ask.

"I don't know his uncle's name, but I'm not really friends with Odair. He's too full of himself," Kai says.

"Yeah, you're in the perfect position to judge," his sister says sarcastically. Then she looks back at me with wide blue eyes that run in the family. "I can't remember. I think he told us, but I'm not sure."

"Odair sounds familiar," I say, half to them and half to myself. I think, no, I'm positive I've heard that name before. It must be the name of one of the younger victors, but for some reason I can't bring a face to mind.

The young ones launch into a conversation about the Odair boy while I try my best to remember where I've heard it. It's going to drive me crazy if I can't.

The battle with my memory continues after the kids leave to go meet Hallie. There's a little rhyme that children learn at school to memorize the names of the twelve people who have won for District Four. I should know them better than anyone since I was there for nearly every win, yet I still find myself going through the verses to recall the last names.

There are no male victors with the last name Odair. It takes a second for me to realize that the boy's uncle was probably on his mother's side, so he wouldn't have the same last name anyway. Yes, whichever victor is the uncle must have a sister, or maybe even a half or step sibling.

Something clicks. Half-sibling, half-sibling. I go to retrieve something that has been in this house longer than I have.

In the back room, I keep a curio cabinet of things that I could never part with no matter how hard they are to see at times. The middle shelf is full of family pictures.

There's one of me at my old house that was taken on my eighteenth birthday. I'm making a face at the camera and Alec is laughing behind me. Next to it is a framed wedding photo, and beyond it lies a compilation of pictures taken in the years after. These moments frozen in time tell the story of the best years of my life. I'm tempted to go through them for the thousandth time, but there's one in particular that I'm looking for.

I reach past a picture of Destan as a toddler and grab the only photo that was here before I even met Alec. His family. I run my fingers over the textured frame around it and examine the picture, just as I did what seems like a lifetime ago.

It was taken not long before Alec was reaped for the ninth Hunger Games at age sixteen. He stands next to his mother, who had the same sea green eyes as my son. She holds a small child in her lap; her youngest son, only two or three years old. Alec's half-brother, Thomas.

Both were gone from Alec's life a year later, but death only claimed one of their lives. Little Tom moved across the district with his father. He was raised as an ordinary kid with no connection to his half-brother or the Hunger Games.

I didn't understand it at the time, how Alec could allow the only family he had left on this planet to be stripped away from him. How is it fair that his only relative should grow up not knowing his own brother? I didn't get it then, but I see now that it was safer that way.

You can never be safe when you are related to a victor. Every action, every mistake is punished by targeting family, because that's the blow that hurts the most.

We never talked about his brother much because it was such a touchy subject. I would only bring it up when I was upset with something the Capitol had done and wanted to remind Alec why he should be upset with them, too. I was young and naïve then. I didn't understand that it was insensitive.

There were two or three times, though, that we got a letter in the mail from a name I didn't recognize. I remember leaning against Alec and reading over his shoulder as he filled out a name on an envelope and tucked some money inside. I can remember what he said when I asked him about it.

_ My stepfather sent that letter. He was a little short on money this year. I'm sending him some so he'll be able to support Tommy._

And that was that. We didn't dwell on it then, but now, all these years later, it's significant. I watched him as he spelled out his stepfather's last name on those envelopes.

The name was Odair. His brother's name was Thomas Odair.

If Alec's long lost younger brother had a son, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume he would be around the same age as Hallie's kids.

This could be just a coincidence. There could be tons of other Odair's who live on the other end of District Four. I just have to take a minute to consider the possibility that the uncle the kid was talking about was my husband. In another world, if a thousand things had played out differently, this Odair boy could have been my nephew.

If all of this is connected, that would mean little Tom did know his brother was a victor, and that was something he was never supposed to find out. It's hopeless to try to figure out the how's and why's. No matter how hard I've tried, I've never been able to figure out why life plays out the way it does.

But now I have to consider, if the boy my cousin's children were talking about is my late husband's nephew, does it really change anything? I never went find Tom because he wasn't part of this life or the mess I had gotten myself into. What reason would I have to try to assimilate them into my life now?

I can't think of any logical reason to do so. I have no right to interfere with their lives. But I don't think I can sit here and chase the thought from my head without knowing for sure whether the Odair family is related to the ones I have lost.

It won't change anything about my life. My job is to continue researching and laying foundations for revolution, and that's what I will keep doing.

I just need to know so I can dowse these flames of curiosity.


	37. Lineage

**A/N: Biglebowski asked if I would be including any more of Snow's biography. I couldn't fit it in this chapter, but there will be more on his backstory eventually. Also, I only have three weeks of school left so I will finally have time to sit down and finish this story. Feel free to leave some feedback! Pretty please with a cherry on top :D**

* * *

I had never considered the importance of a surname. For the most part, I always thought of them as only a means of identification. Last names are necessary to differentiate between the dozens of Corals and Tritons that live in District Four. I see now that they are much more significant than that.

Surnames build connections. They keep distant family trees tied together at the roots. A name alone can give you common ground with a complete stranger.

I was born a Brine. Getting married all those years ago placed me on the Calder family tree. I had never explored it enough to know that it was closely connected to another family.

The Odairs.

The branches are spread a little too far apart to overlap, but it is a connection nonetheless.

I'm not really sure if I have any good reason to be here, in a car with Hallie and her kids, travelling to the other end of District Four. There's nothing to be accomplished. I just feel like it's something I have to do before I can move on with my life.

We hit a bump in the road that makes us all jump in our seats. Hallie is quick to come with an apology. "Sorry about that. I've only driven one time before. I wish my husband would've come because he knows how to work these rental vehicles better."

Her hands are trembling on the wheel and she looks scared out of her mind. Even now that she's in her forties, I can still see traces of the frail little girl I knew when we were young. "It's just the roads, Hal. They're going to be bumpy no matter what, unless someone decides to pave them," I reassure her.

I glance out the side and watch the pieces of gravel fly up against the sides. I'm so used to the sleek roads of the Capitol that I forgot what it's like to travel by car in the districts. The car we are in has open spaces where doors normally are and only a thin plastic covering for a roof. The sides are painted a faded color that may have resembled an olive green when the vehicle was in its prime. It isn't much, but it's a better alternative than walking.

"Are you guys okay back there?" Hallie calls to Kai and Berimilla, who are cramped in the back seat. They both mumble some form of assent without turning their eyes away from the passing scenery.

Hallie sighs. "Trying to get them to talk to me is like prying teeth," she tells me.

"I'm sure they will come around one day," I smile. I turn in my seat to look at the two teenagers behind me. My cousins and I were so close growing up that I guess I assumed we would all remain close after we had kids. I wish Kai and Berri were a bigger part of my life, but that's just not how it worked out. Related or not, we will always be passing side characters in each other's lives.

That makes me sad for a second, and my heart stirs with something I can only describe as loneliness. This is ridiculous. How long have I been on my own now? I'll get along just fine, like always. It's what I do.

I turn my attention back to the passing scenery and let it distract my thoughts. The rocky path we are on hugs the coastline, and to our right is an endless procession of grass-covered dunes. The left side stretches out into the distance, filled with overgrown, untamed weeds. A few billowy clouds of smoke are the only indication that somewhere out there, there are factories preparing goods to be shipped to the Capitol. We live in a large district, but the little towns and villages do not cover its entire area.

I must fall asleep somewhere along the way, because when I open my eyes, the sun is sinking into the sky and we are pulling into the front yard of a small but well-kept house. I end up staying the night and I make plans to go visit the Odairs first thing in the morning. Then I will be driving back home, where everything will return to normal.

Hallie and the kids follow me outside as I climb into the old car in the early morning air. I twist the key in the ignition and it comes to life with a series of sputtering coughs.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Hallie asks hesitantly. "I don't want you to get in any kind of trouble for using the car. And I hate that you have to travel all that way alone."

I brush off her concern. "No one's going to tell me anything. I'll pay for someone to bring it back to the shop and I can't get lost following the coast. I just need to figure out where the Odairs live."

"Fisk lives on Conch Road, in the house with the green shutters. You just head that way until you see houses," Berri answers from behind her mother, pointing a finger in the general direction.

"Stalker," Kai says in between coughs. His sister elbows him in response.

"Thanks. I hope I'll see you all sometime soon!" I call out to them.

"Watch out for my sister for me!" Hallie calls back. I nod and look down at the two pedals below me. I've never actually driven, but I've rode in enough vehicles to have a basic understanding of what goes on. I press a foot to the smaller pedal and the car jerks forward. With a push to the brake, it stops and my head swings back. I don't need anyone doubting my capabilities to do this on my own. _Smoother_, I tell myself. This time I press down gently and the car moves along.

Enough grass grows between the rocks that it makes it difficult to tell whether I am on a road at all. But, within a few minutes, I see another row of wooden houses in the distance. Conch Road.

I steer the wheel to the side and pull onto the street. Sure enough, there is a house with dusty green shutters on a corner. I pull beside the yard and brake with another jerky motion. I feel soreness radiating up my neck already, but that is not the major concern. It's been a while since I've felt so apprehensive.

How am I supposed to explain why I'm here? What am I supposed to say?

I reluctantly release my grip on the steering wheel and begin the walk toward the door. My breaths are shallow and fast-paced. With one last attempt to pull myself together, I straighten my back and work up the courage to knock.

Footsteps come a moment later, and after a considerably long pause, the door opens. A man of about forty stands before me, his green eyes baffled.

He looks like him.

That's my first thought. There is no question in my mind that this is Thomas Odair; the adult version of the little boy in the picture that has been in my house for ages. I know because I can see the resemblance between him and Alec. It's subtle enough to where most people wouldn't notice, but my husband's face was one I knew as well as my own. The man in the doorway has lighter hair and a bulkier build, but that jawline is Alec's. So is his nose. Even the confused expression on his face is one I remember seeing before.

The sight of him throws me through a loop, and I am left without words. "I'm Mags…and I'm here…because…," I begin, unable to articulate.

The man in the doorway sees that I'm not going to finish my thought. "I think I know why you're here. I just don't understand why now, of all times," he says, sounding neither harsh nor warm. He holds open the door as an invitation to come in.

"It was kind of a spur of the moment decision," I say as I follow him in. I'm at least grateful that I seem to have found my voice.

He nods. "I'm Tom, but I guess you knew that already. In case you were wondering, I know my lineage," he says, eyeing me carefully at the last part.

The rustic house is similar to the one I grew up in: wooden floors that creak ever so slightly, a square living area that leads to a small kitchenette. We stall in the living room. By the TV, I see a fish mounted to the wall and a picture of who must be his wife and son.

"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you known? Until very recently, I've been under the impression that you didn't," I finally respond.

"Hmm, it's been a few decades I suppose."

A few decades. I wonder if he put it together after the incident, when everything was on the news. Those months were my own personal dark days. Thinking about it makes me wince. "You were never supposed to know," I say.

Tom shifts his weight and presses his side against the wall. "I know. There were a lot of things kept from me when I was growing up."

It's not really my fault, but somehow I feel guilty for that. "I'm sorry for all you've been through. And for just showing up at your door. If there's any questions you still have, I can try my best to answer them before I go."

"I think she should both know each other's story. I'm curious though, what made you realize I knew about my brother? Someone must have told you."

"Not exactly," I say, relaxing the slightest bit. "My cousin was visiting and her kids were saying there was a boy at their school whose uncle was a victor. Then they said the last name was Odair, and I realized I knew that name."

Tom surprises me with a good natured laugh. "I should've known Fisk would have something to do with it. I told him to keep our connection to Alec Calder on the down low, but the boy can't keep his mouth shut to save his life. Can't blame him, though. He tells me kids these days are only popular if they are in the career school. I guess he feels like he needs something to hold above the rest of them since I don't let him train."

"From what the kids told me, it sounds like he's pretty popular. Is he here now?" I ask.

Tom smiles, and two little creases form around his mouth. That belonged to Alec, too. I almost don't hear him when he answers. "Nah, he's out with his girlfriend. They've been off and on for a few years, but I think he really cares about her. They're always making these huge plans to move across the district after graduation and build their own house."

"I think my cousin's daughter would be disappointed to hear that," I think out loud. "Wow, they're almost all grown up. You know how old that makes me feel?"

"I know," Tom agrees, even though he is several years younger than me.

"You had a son too, didn't you?" he asks.

I stiffen reflexively but make my best effort to answer causally. "Yes, I did. His name was Destan. Destan Kyle Calder. He would have made twenty-five this year."

I'm a little concerned about what path this conversation might take next, though I should have anticipated this the second I decided to come here. I'm glad that his next comment isn't too emotionally laden.

"He and Fisk would have been cousins," he says.

I think back to when I was a child. My cousins were my best friends. Would Destan and Fisk have been like that if they had gotten the chance to know each other? "It would have been nice if we could've been a family," I decide.

"Yeah, but I think that ship sailed a long time ago…" his voice fades out. It comes back a second later. "Well what are we doing standing around here? Come on, have a seat and I'll get you something to drink. We have a lot to catch up on in a short amount of time!"

I request a water and he comes back with a glass a minute later, along with some sort of diluted alcohol for himself. We talk about light things at first, but eventually I have to know what made him find out about his relation to Alec.

Tom leans back in his chair and his eyes seem far away. "When I was young, my father was always extremely against anything having to do with the Capitol or the Hunger Games. He was always strict about never letting me train or volunteer, and looking back, I'm glad he was.

"I was more concerned with finding out what had happened to my mother. My father- I called him Pop- had remarried when I was around seven. I liked my stepmom. She treated me just as well as her biological daughter, but I always wished that I had known my real mom instead."

"Did your father ever mention her?" I ask.

"Only in passing. Never around his wife. I thought I had a memory of her, but I think it was just something I made up based off of her description. But anyway, I never connected any of that to the Hunger Games until years later. One day I checked the mail and we had gotten something from Alec Calder. I had no idea why, but I was pretty excited about it. There were only three victors back then, you included, and everyone looked up to them.

"Pop snatched the letter away, so l I never found out why we were getting mail from a victor, but I never forgot about it. Years later, I was going through my dad's closet, looking for a certain fishing pole. I found his old wedding picture. I didn't have to be told that it was my biological mother standing next to him. The thing was, there was a third person in the picture. There was a boy standing next to my mother, and he looked an awful lot like someone I had seen on TV.

"I didn't want to believe it. It meant accepting that my own brother abandoned me, when I could have been living the coolest life a kid could imagine. It would have meant Pop was in on it, too. I knew it had to be the reason he was so against the Hunger Games, but I just didn't get it. Then after everything happened…and it was too late to ever hear Alec's side of the story…Pop told me everything. I can't say I mourned him like you did because I never even knew him. We were family but we weren't. It was harder for me to hear about how my mom really died. Then there came the realization that what happened to Alec wouldn't have been an accident, either."

The last words ring with finality. It takes me a while to think of a response. "I know you don't remember him, but he cared about you a lot. It would have been very dangerous for you to be part of that life. He was only protecting you."

"I understand now," he says. "Everything Pop ever told me about the Capitol was true."

"You look like your brother. Some of your features are alike," I blurt out even though it's out of place in the conversation. It's hard to see him, but at the same time, it's kind of comforting. It's as if the world is saying that the people who are gone never disappear completely.

"Huh. Must come from our mother's side." He suddenly leans and peers around the table, as if he sees something behind me. I turn in the same direction and, out the dusty window, I can just make out the shape of two people approaching the house hand-in-hand.

"Here comes Fisk," Tom says.

The figures reach the front door. Even after they come inside, they are fuzzy until they get close enough for my vision to be able to discern smaller details. I can see the reason for Berri's girlish crush on Fisk. He's a handsome young man with the same striking eyes and athletic build that must run in the family. His shock of hair is sandy brown in color and looks messy from being tossed around by the wind. The girl beside him has equally windblown reddish hair that almost looks blonde when she stands in the sunlight that streams from the window.

I pay more attention to how they interact.

The two are still holding hands, but Fisk spins the girl around in a way that makes her arms tangle around him. She starts a cry of protest before being overtaken by a laugh. I can't help but smile as I watch them. Young love and the emotions that come with it is the most pure and magnificent thing.

"Fisk, over here! We have company," Tom calls. Both teenagers look up and join us. Fisk's face takes an expression of scrutiny. I suspect he's heard my name and seen a picture of the younger version of me. I doubt he recognizes the aged version.

"I know you remember our talk about our relation to a victor. This is Mags. She's also a victor and she happened to be married to Alec Calder. We're almost family in a way," Tom announces.

The younger Odair's face glows with recognition. "Oh, yeah! You were the third victor of District Four. It's nice to meet you. My name's Fisk," he says, extending his hand.

I shake his hand, noting how firm and youthful his is compared to mine. "It's very nice to meet you, too. Do you know a brother and sister named Kai and Berrimilla?"

Fisk nods. "Yeah, I know Kai from the athletic team. I think his sister is a few years younger, but I've seen her around," he says. Then he uses his arm to move his girlfriend to the forefront. "Well come on, aren't you going to introduce yourself? I'm not doing it for you."

The girl shoots him a look. Then she pushes back her hair and looks over to me. "I'm Meredith. It's such an honor to be able to meet a real victor," she says.

I laugh and shake my head. She makes it sound like I'm some mythical god. "I'm just a person like the rest of us, but thank you."

"You must live out there in Victor's Village then!" Fisk says excitedly. He pulls Meredith even closer to him. "Meredith used to live on that side of the district. We only have a two years of school left before we can move out there! There's just so many more opportunities on that side. It's so boring out here in the middle of nowhere." Meredith nods in agreement.

"It's also safer 'out here in the middle of nowhere'," Tom reminds him sternly.

"Dad, we'll be eighteen. The reaping won't matter after that year."

Meredith speaks next. "Fisk, I think it's time for me to go home."

"Okay. I'll walk you over there," Fisk replies.

When they are gone, Tom grimaces. "I worry about them. I really do. They have no idea how hard it is to just pack up and make a living for yourself somewhere else."

I think about that as I sip my water. "If they do decide to move, they could always ask for help if they need anything. I'm not going anywhere."

Tom nods. "Fisk doesn't like asking for help, but it would make me feel better if he had someone to look out for him. The Capitol doesn't pay much attention to the more rural side of Four, so you could understand why I want him to stay here."

"We're almost family, remember? If you can't stop them, at least let them know to come find me if they need help," I tell him.

"I might just take you up on that offer," he says.

* * *

As nice as it was to finally meet Alec's family, I stay true to my word and go back to my normal life as soon as I return home. There's still so much to do before any rebellion can take place, and I know it's my job to lay as many foundations as I can while I'm still able.

Two, four, six years pass. We finally begin making bits of progress after the second quarter quell. That year, forty-eight tributes are thrown into a candy-colored, beautiful landscape that proves to be deadly. A boy from Twelve claims victory with a hatchet and a force field, but the underdog district's second victory is not enough to distract from the other forty-seven lives lost. Twice the death. Twice the outrage. Some other victors begin to speak rebelliously, and I make a mental note to recruit them when the time is right.

Our major success involves being able to place a few hidden sound recorders in a coffee shop that serves as a gamemaker meeting location. I've been working very hard to get Plutarch a gamemaker position, but it hasn't happened yet. Still, small progress is better than nothing.

In reality, most of my free time is spent in leisure. I come to appreciate the slow pace of my life. It is much more relaxing than being in the Capitol, where life moves so fast that it isn't really living at all. Here, I'm able take my time whether I'm having tea with Marilla or tending to the garden outside.

Today I'm outside, filling a bucket with ripe plums from the tree in my yard. The sea breeze blows free a few strands of my hair, which is slowly beginning to dull into a gray. When I push it out of my face, I can see someone walking along the sidewalk that runs in front of all the houses. It looks like one of the young male victors, but I can't see well enough to know for sure.

I go back to picking the plums, humming quietly to myself in the process. I don't look up again until I see the man turn to walk into my yard. Instinctively, I back up and look out cautiously. Then I get a better look at the muscular build and sandy brown hair, and I recognize him. It's Fisk. I had almost forgotten about my promise to help him if he ever needed anything in the future. After four or so years had passed, I had just assumed he decided not to move.

My guarded expression changes to a warm one. I raise my hand to wave, and then I see that Fisk isn't alone. He's holding a little baby, probably only a year or so old.

"Is this your son?" I ask when he finally meets me by the tree. My attention is focused on the baby squirming in his arms. His hair has a subtle touch of red that could only be from Meredith. He looks up at me, and his eyes are the signature Odair sea-green. No, not Odair. Not really. That gene traces back to Alec's mother's lineage. It was reflected in the eyes of my own son.

"Yeah, this is Finnick," Fisk says, and his tone catches me off guard. I look up and see that he doesn't look excited or even happy. His voice subdued and his dark circles suggest that he has been through many sleepless nights.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

"It's just been hard. I think you met Meredith before. She hasn't been doing well since she had the baby. I know she had some health problems before, but we didn't know- no one ever told us- that it would be bad for her to have kids."

"Is she going to be okay?" I ask. I don't have to feign my concern.

"We hope so," Fisk says as he sets down Finnick. "She can't really watch the baby, and I work long hours, so I wanted to ask if you could possibly babysit Finnick for a few hours. I'm really sorry. I know we barely know each other; I just don't know what else to do."

"Of course. Of course I can. It's no trouble, really," I assure him, keeping my eyes on the child as I speak. He walks unsteadily, with legs so tiny I'm surprised he can balance on them.

Fisk starts talking again, but I notice with a panic that baby Finnick is trying to walk up the brick steps. "Fisk, the baby!" I interrupt.

He jumps up at once and runs to grab his little son. "I told you not to run off!" he exclaims as he grips the baby's arm. Finnick, not understanding what he did wrong but upset by his father's shout, begins to whimper.

"Oh not again," Fisk frowns, and he tries hard to comfort the child.

I lean forward and take the infant into my own arms. "I'll take it from here. Go on, I know you have a lot to do today."

"Thank you," he says hesitantly and hands me the baby's bag before rushing back down the path.

I really hope that all goes well for Fisk and Meredith. The overwhelming responsibility that comes along with being new parents is hard enough without sickness in the family. Little Finnick needs his mother in his life.

Finnick's eyes dart around the room when I set him down, and the whimpers are quickly replaced by a need to explore. He toddles off while I dig through his bag. It's been such a long time since a baby has been in this house. I remember enough to know that he's going to need something to occupy him enough to keep him in one place. I pull a turtle stuffed animal out the bag and crouch down to hand it to him.

"Tur…ullll!" he squeals. He swings the toy in front of him and tosses it across the room.

"Oh no! What happened to Mr. Turtle?!" I gasp, surprising myself at how easily I fall back into the familiar pattern of baby talk. I go retrieve the toy and pretend to make it talk. Finnick laughs and claps his hands in delight. When I hand back the turtle his throws it again and again, amused despite the repetition.

It's difficult for me to bend down to his level to play, a reminder to me that I'm not in the same physical condition I was in my twenties. It should make me feel old, but instead, playing with little Finn makes me feel like I am young again. Being around a little person with so much energy gives me energy, too.

It isn't until after his snack in the late afternoon that he begins to slow down. His eyes droop and a little yawn escapes his mouth. I pick him up and sit with him on the sofa until he drifts to sleep. Then I lay him down and place a blanket over him. I sit there for at least an hour as he rests. I'm perfectly content to stay right here.

Though I can feel the achiness in my bones already, I have no complaints. Today has been the best day I've had in a very long time. I want to be there to watch as little Finn grows up. With Kai and Berri, I was only a stranger relative; never an important person in their lives. Maybe this time will be different. Fisk and Meredith are going to need help.

I know it's not safe for anyone to be close to me as long as I'm involved in planning a rebellion. Sometimes I have to wonder, though. Snow has to know about some of the stuff I've done. He's always known everything before. Perhaps he sees me as already broken; someone incapable of inspiring a nation or posing a threat.

I don't know. Tom's son has been shielded from all the mess associated with the Hunger Games, but it hasn't stopped bad lings from happening. Sometimes life is a struggle no matter the circumstances.

_But it is also precious, _I remind myself as I look at the sleeping child. Every rise and fall of his chest reminds me how perfect life can be.

The doorbell rings and Finnick awakes with a cry. I pick him up, blanket still wrapped around him, and go to answer the door. "He just woke up from his nap. He's been doing great," I explain when I open the door to see a concerned Fisk.

"That's fine. Thanks so much. Come on Finnick, let's go home," he says, reaching out to his son.

Still disoriented from sleep, Finnick resists at first. "Go to Daddy, Finn," I coo.

"Daddy," he finally whimpers and holds his arms out to his father.

"I'm sorry I asked you-" Fisk begins, but I cut him off.

"No, don't be sorry. I don't want an apology. It was great having him. It gets lonely here sometimes," I finally admit. I look back up to meet his eyes. "I would be happy to watch him again if you need."

Fisk echoes something his father told me a few years ago. "I might just take you up on that offer."


	38. Inevitable

** A/N: I was so happy with the response to the last chapter! I really like this one for the most part :) Finally, the sixty-fifth games are beginning! I've just realized that it's actually kind of sad to age a character several decades… Anyway, weekly updates from this point on now that I finally have free time. I also want to point out that Mags still has her speech intact for now**

* * *

Sometimes I can't help but think having Finnick in my life is like a second chance. It's not something I was planning on. I never would have expected it. That type of life, the life of bandaging skinned knees and wiping away tears: that was something I had traded away a long time ago. It had been buried with my past and replaced by a life driven by a goal for the greater good.

I didn't think those two lives could exist together. They probably shouldn't. Yet here I am, and I have to say, I'm more content than I have been in a long, long time.

I may be a little partial when I say that it is impossible to _not_ love Finn. After all, he does spend most weekdays at my house. Still, I can't imagine how anyone could be immune to his perfect little smile or vibrant personality.

The best way to sum it up is something I told Thomas Odair when he came to visit. "Your grandson has the world wrapped around his finger." It's true. The little boy radiates life, and I can't be the only one who sees it.

I'm so used to seeing the smile that he uses when he wants to get his way that it shocks me to see a different expression. Finnick runs over to me, his face flushed and eyes barely concealing tears. He drags a long spear behind him.

It doesn't take much for me to bend down to his level. He is tall for an eight year old and catching up to me quickly.

"Finnick, what's wrong? Do your parents know you're here?" I ask.

"No. I'm mad at Dad right now," Finn answers in sniffles.

"Aw, come here," I say, pulling him against me and pushing a lock of bronze hair off his forehead. "Let's go sit down. I'll get you a glass of water."

He leans the weapon against the table and sits compliantly. I come back with the water and watch as he takes gulp after gulp. Eventually, the redness fades from his face and his breathing evens. "Why are you mad with your daddy, Finn? You know he loves you," I say after he has cooled down.

"He won't let me go to Career School!" Finnick huffs. "All the boys in my class are going and I'm going to be the only one left out."

I knew this day was coming soon. I'm not sure how to make him understand why we don't want him training, but I know I have to try. Keeping him in the dark won't fix anything.

"I know it's hard to understand now, but your father has very good reasons. Being a career is dangerous. Maybe not now, but ten years down the road, it could cost you everything. Even your life. Do you understand?"

Finnick looks back up at me and shakes his head. "No, they told us about the Hunger Games at school. I know you won and that's why you live in this nice house. I could win too! Then we would be neighbors."

"I see you all the time, Finn. There's no need for us to be neighbors," I smile.

He frowns and tries again. "We would have money. Daddy won't have to work anymore, and he'll have more time for us." I almost see the tears reappear, but he blinks them away immediately.

"He's doing the best he can," I say sadly. When Fisk and Meredith came over to this side of the district, they had big plans for the future. The Odairs were actually able to build quite a name for themselves. They live in a house that is big by district standards and money has never been a concern.

It's just that success always comes with a price. Long working hours is part of the deal.

"I just want to train. I thought, since you won the Hunger Games, you could teach me," Finnick says, proudly motioning to the spear he dragged to my house.

Just the thought of me throwing a spear in demonstration is ridiculous enough to be funny. "Ah, that was a long time ago," I laugh. "I'm old now. You're lucky I can keep up with you, little boy."

"Please please please," he begs, taking on the puppy dog expression that gets him pretty much whatever he wants.

"You know that doesn't work on me anymore," I tease.

While Finnick is busy thinking up his next tactic of persuasion, the silence allows my mind to wander. Would it be better for Finnick to know how to defend himself? The thought of him wielding a weapon makes me panicky right now, but he might need it one day.

I can't guarantee that he won't get reaped. Especially considering he's one of the few people I love. Just thinking that way unearths layers of guilt and apprehension for the future. They can't take Finnick from me. They've taken enough.

The rebellion I'm involved in planning is risky business. For the first time, I consider that Finnick may be part of it. I want him to reap the benefits of change, of course, but what about the fight to achieve it? How old will Finnick be when war finally breaks out? Will he have to fight?

Suddenly the spear next to him seems less like an unnecessary danger and more like a form of protection.

I take a deep breath. I've made the mistake of over-sheltering before. This time needs to be different. What I say next is something that threatens to drain the color from my face and make my legs go weak.

"I may or may not have a set of keys to the Career School. And I may or may not be able to bring you there to practice privately."

"Yes!" Finnick cheers. His whole expression lights up and he looks at me slyly. "You said the face doesn't work on you. I told you it works on everyone!"

"Don't be so sure about that."

"Race you to the school!" he exclaims, jumping up and bounding to the door in a blur of hyperactivity.

"Wait! I don't even have the keys." I make sure to move especially slowly through the house to retrieve the dull silver keys from a cabinet.

I've rarely used them, yet they've aged so much. I remember getting them when the school opened. That was a few weeks after my wedding. I can still clearly recall laying lazily across Alec's back the morning the phone's shrill ring informed us of the school's opening.

I never dreamed I would be using them to take Alec's brother's grandson to the school over forty years later.

Finnick tugs at my shirt impatiently and runs around me as we make our way out of the house. Once we're outside, he runs ahead, only pausing briefly to allow me to catch up.

"I swear, this child is going to be the death of me," I mutter to myself.

There's no keeping up with him, but I have made an effort to keep myself active as I age. I've seen from my parents that once you slow down, there's no going back.

I'm a little short of breath by the time we make it to the imposing gray building. It still looks out of place compared to the rest of the buildings in Four. I turn the key and the door opens with a creak.

Several doors line the massive hallway. If I remember correctly, the first few rooms are meant for beginners. We go through one of the first doors to find a large room clearly meant for the younger ones. Our steps echo in the room. Mine are slow and rhythmic, while Finnick's are light and quick. He runs along the side wall, running his hands along the different weapon stations.

He stops at one and picks up what looks like a child-sized version of a trident. "I want to try this one!" he announces. It occurs to me that he's holding it the wrong way. I don't consider myself very knowledgeable on handling weapons, but I suppose a few decades of mentoring has made me subconsciously aware of how they should be used.

"Finn, I think you should start off with something small," I tell him. I grab a set of throwing knives with dull ends and carefully place one in his hand. My fingers move his to the right places on the handle.

I move a little target so it is only a few feet away from Finnick. "Turn your body a bit to the left and pull your shoulder back when you throw," I instruct. I try not to let him see how nervous I am. Eight year old boys shouldn't even have access to a knife. I tense up and visibly relax when the knife sticks into one of the outer rings of the target.

He cheers and does a celebratory dance, and I can't help but smile. We spend forty minutes or so practicing with the knives. Each time, I move the target back just a little farther. We eventually reach a point where Finnick can't seem to make it.

"I think that means it's time to call it a day," I decide.

"What weapons can you use, Mags?" he asks as he puts the knife away.

"I was always more of a survival skills person," I answer honestly. "Well, there is something I might still be able to do." I catch sight of a dangling string and a loose bit of metal. With some difficulty, I'm able to bend the metal and tie the string around it to make a crude fishing hook.

"How'd you do that?" little Finn asks incredulously.

"That's something my father taught me when I was very young. You can make something out of anything."

He starts asking for me to teach him, but I gently tell him it's about time he gets home. Dusk has already fallen, and his parents will surely be worried about him. Before we go, I make him promise to keep our training a secret for now.

Only Meredith is there when we reach the beige colored house. She's been through a lot the past several years. I've been to the doctor with them to see the x-rays of the internal problems that were already forming during her adolescence. She would have developed chronic pain either way, but a pregnancy complication had only sped up the process.

Most of her days are spent in bed on medication while Fisk works and I look after Finnick. By the evening, though, she is well rested enough to get up and spend time with the family so Finnick won't have to see how beaten down she really is. Meredith is up right now, sitting in the recliner and thumbing through a book when we get there. She looks up at us and smiles. At times like this, you only see her natural beauty. Her face is fair and glowing, and the heating pads wrapped around her midsection become barely noticeable.

A wave of confusion comes over her face soon after. "Finnick, I thought you were with your father. You didn't have to go bother Mags."

"I wasn't bothering her," Finnick insists, and I back up his words.

"Are you feeling good today, Mom?" Finnick asks. Around everyone else, he is rambunctious and maybe even a bit manipulative, but other characteristics surface around his mother. He is defensive of her and surprisingly caring. He does his best to care for her without even being asked.

"I'm fine, love. I'm just waiting for your daddy to get home," she assures him.

Finnick runs off to get her evening medicine, as he usually does when I drop him off.

"Thank you for keeping an eye on him. I really thought he was with Fisk today," she frowns.

"I think they had a little argument about the training school. He should be fine now," I say. The guilt is already seeping in, but I promise myself that I will talk to them about the necessity of Finnick's training. I just need a day to discuss it privately, without Finnick's little ears listening in.

The youngest Odair comes back into the room and climbs onto the recliner with his mother. I take it as my cue to leave. I look back at Meredith running her hand through Finnick's hair and kissing the top of his head. She needs him. I need him.

He needs to stay safe.

* * *

6 years later

"Finnick Odair!" comes the cry from the new escort's mouth.

The first thing that hits is a sense of déjà vu. I've seen this before in dreams. Nightmares. It's the same Capitol accent reading the name, but the voice belongs to a different body.

Reality sets in, digging painfully into my skin. My heart leaps as I rise automatically. Finnick. They called my Finnick.

Two pairs of arms grab me before I can make it to the middle of the stage. It's two younger victors; two vague faces from two bloodbaths.

"You're supposed to sit down until the end of the reaping," one voice says, speaking slowly and deliberately as if I am too senile to understand.

My mouth still hangs agape as they guide me back down to my seat. I lift my head and strain my eyes to see Finnick walk up to the stage. There's a loud gasp from the crowd. Several little girls scream in distress.

I should be the one screaming. No, Finnick should. Instead, he shakes the escort's hand calmly and turns to face the crowd. He even has a smile on his face. Not a genuine one, that much I can tell, but believable nonetheless.

The only silver lining is I'm sure someone will volunteer. There must be an eighteen year old who has gone through ten years of training for this moment. I wait for the familiar call that will save Finnick from the stage, but it doesn't come. Behind the muffled cries of teenage girls, all that lies is silence.

"Come on!" I cry, unable to restrain myself. It doesn't make any difference.

My mind races through the rest of the ceremony. Adrenaline has me trembling, and it seems impossible to focus. I look ahead at the glint of the sun off of Finnick's bronze hair and try to make sense of it all.

It must be my fault. The last few weeks have been strange to say the least.

It started with Plutarch's letters in the mail, talking about finding Snow's daughter. _Roslyn C. Snow, _the letters said. A girl born from an affair.

I had expressed concern over our communication. It is one thing to meet in the Capitol. Exchanging letters no doubt reviewed by Capitol eyes is suicidal.

"If Snow was planning on doing something, he would have a long time ago," Plutarch had responded. "It's like you said; he doesn't take us seriously."

I might not take us seriously, either. An old woman and a relatively unknown Capitol citizen is hardly the definition of a serious threat. They don't know that other victors have joined our ranks. Plutarch and I are both aware that we need a young, strong leader before any rebellion can succeed.

Still, our blatant conspiring made me uncomfortable. "I have a child of reaping age to look out for," I had written back. "Let's leave Snow's daughter out of it for now instead of provoking him. What's four more years of waiting?"

"I want to live to see this happen. I know you do, too," his last letter stated.

That was it until a different letter came in the mail. It said I am no longer required to take the yearly trips to the Capitol unless bound by mentor duty. Supposed to be on account of my age. I suspect they're just trying to keep me away.

There's no way I'm staying away from the Capitol if Finnick is going to be there. I've lost too much for one lifetime. I'm not losing him.

_I'm so sorry, Finnick. You shouldn't be tangled up in this mess._

I don't want to think about how this could have been avoided. The reaping is wrapping up anyway. Finnick shakes hands with the girl tribute- a career volunteer, of course- and the sunny-haired escort leads them to the Justice building. I didn't catch her name, but that is at the bottom of my priorities.

I don't plan on going to the Justice Building to say goodbye. "I'm mentoring this year," I announce to the other victors as soon as the crowd begins to clear out.

"Argo and Raini are mentoring this year," a young woman who won around a decade ago points out.

I glance at Argo, the one who helped guide me back to my seat a few minutes ago. He is in his mid-thirties and is recognizable by his wide set eyes and thin beard.

Behind him, Raini sits with the same scowl she has had since her youth. Besides me, she is the oldest here. We rarely talk, but we share a past that has resulted in a mutual understanding of each other.

"I have to mentor the boy." My tone is harsh but vulnerable. It is a barely concealed plea.

"Is he her grandson?" I hear someone whisper from behind.

"I wouldn't mind sacrificing the boy to mentor the girl," Argo considers. "She looks like a proper career. The boy is a little young. I can't tell if he's anything more than a pretty face. But are you positive you want to mentor? He's probably better off in one of our hands," he finishes. Nothing about his suggests hostility. I'm sure the condescending connotation isn't intentional.

"Leave the mentoring to the real adults here for once," Raini snaps. She certainly hasn't mellowed with age, but her agitated tone now brings a smile to my lips.

"We're not real adults?" Argo questions, seeming a little annoyed now.

"Nothing more than an overgrown child," she spits. "I've had enough of the little snide comments about how Mags and I are of no use because we're older. Show some respect and let the woman mentor!"

The others here are too young to catch the irony of Raini demanding I be respected. They didn't see our difficult relationship during the first Quell, but I'm grateful for whatever kinship we have now.

Argo puts his hands up in surrender and backs off. "Okay, whatever. You two can mentor. There's always next year."

"Thank you," I tell Raini as we walk off the stage. In true Raini fashion, she doesn't turn to acknowledge me. She continues walking forward, her gait strong and not yet affected by aging. Her body is still steady and the fiery color has not completely drained from her hair.

I know I look much older and weaker. After all, I do have thirteen or so years on her. Beyond that, though, I never looked as commanding as her. I can't help but think that if she were younger and more agreeable, she could fit the part of leading a rebellion.

We take opportunity of the short window of time to go back to Victor's Village and pack. I make it back to the train a little early. The new escort is bustling around, and I make an effort to study her for the first time. I'm somehow inclined to compare every escort to Isidora, who sticks out in my mind as a general archetype.

As crazy as it is to admit, I miss Isidora. There's certain days where I can close my eyes and see our old Hunger Games family in a nostalgic vision. Alec and I. Kallan making some excited comment. Isidora squealing over magazines and Lilith squinting at her in distaste. How crazy it is that they have all disappeared with the past while I am still here.

The new escort seems to have the same demeanor as Isidora and the others, including the plump man who held the position for the last seven years. Her hair is parted in the middle and colored an ombre yellow that turns into a burnt orange at the edges. Pale powder covers her skin, aside from the colorful swirls around her huge eyes.

She must catch me looking at her, because she turns around to introduce herself. "Oh, hello! I'm Sabina Folli, and I'm so excited to represent District Four. It's considered the most desirable district," she babbles in pride. "You must be…don't tell me…Meg?" she asks hopefully.

"Mags," I correct gently. "Nice to meet you, Sabina."

"Ooh, a vintage victor," she beams.

The doors open then, and soon Finnick is walking in and nothing else is important. I rush over to him as quickly as my muscles will allow and wrap him in a bear hug. He's so much taller than me, but I still consider him to be a little boy. The same little boy he has always been, except now with muscles and a handsome face that drives girls crazy.

"Mags? I didn't expect to see you mentoring," he says, clearly surprised.

"You really thought I would leave you to fend for yourself? Really Finn, you should have known the second I didn't go visit you in the Justice Building."

"Yeah, but I'm still pretty pissed about that whole goodbye situation."

Normally I would tell him to watch his language, but I am curious to know what happened. "What are you talking about?"

"Considering I have dozens of friends I hang out with on a regular basis, I was kind of expecting at least some of them would have the decency to say goodbye."

"Don't feel too bad. Visitation is usually left to immediate family," I assure him. "Did your parents stop by?"

"Dad did," he says.

There's so much I need to say to him that I can't really discuss right now. Most of all, I want to know how he is feeling about all of this. Sabina Folli beats me to it.

"If it isn't the handsome Finnick Odair!" she exclaims, jutting in between us. "How are you feeling about being a tribute?"

"I'm ready," Finn answers, his voice steady. "I've prepared for it long enough."

"I bet you have," Sabina grins. She extends a dainty hand and pulls over the female tribute, who I hadn't even realized was here. "Kelsie and you are going to make an excellent team," she decides.

Kelsie does not look as physically threatening as the careers I am used to seeing, but I can still see evidence of years of training in her lean build. Her features seem to contradict each other: skin that is olive toned but somehow fair enough to show freckles, eyes that are somewhere in between a misty gray and cloudy brown. A dark sheet of hair falls straight down her back. She does not fit in with the traditional mold of classic beauty, but she could be pretty in an exotic way.

Her eyes scan Finnick up and down, and a smile plays on her lips. "How old are you again?" she asks.

Finnick is no stranger to these types of questions. "Does it matter?" he asks in the signature tone he uses with flirtatious girls. He doesn't admit it, but I know he enjoys the attention. I've told him time and time again that I'll have to knock some sense into him if he lets it go to his head.

Raini mumbles from the side of the room. "I've had enough of this already. Come find me when there's actually something useful to do. I'm not here to watch desperate teenagers flirt." With that said, she disappears down the hallway, as she usually does when she has grown tired of contact with other human beings. In other words, nearly all the time.

It's fairly quiet for most of the train ride. Finnick looks fine. I would even go as far to say he looks happy. But then again, I know Finnick, and I know he is a great actor.

He sees my concerned look. "It's going to be okay," he says simply.

Why should he be the one comforting me right now? I can barely hold back everything I want to tell him. It's hard to find privacy in the Capitol, where tributes are on such tight schedules, but there are places. The streets of the Capitol on the walk back from the Tribute Parade. The rooftop of the building. I should be able to steal some time alone with him between the styling and training sessions.

Then there's Plutarch. He needs to understand that I have other priorities this year. I can't help him with whatever plan he had involving the president's estranged daughter.

Hold on a second. Plutarch! I had almost forgotten we had secured him a gamemaker position last year. He will have at least some degree of influence over the arena, and that could make all the difference.

Another glance at Finnick reminds me of all the sponsor money that will surely come in. He's sitting at the table now, plopping sugar cubes in his mouth when he could be indulging himself in delicacies he has never tried before.

"Someone has a sweet tooth," Kelsie says in a singsong voice. She keeps inching her chair closer to his. If only a fraction of the women in the Capitol react similarly, we'll be set with sponsor money.

"For that I blame Mags," Finnick replies, causing me to look up when I hear my name. It's true that I have spent years spoiling him with sweets. I've always had the same inclination toward sugary snacks.

I just can't believe he could be calm enough to recount memories like that in a time like this. Today's events must bother him somewhere beneath that outer façade. Maybe the cold reality of the situation hasn't hit him yet.

I don't think it has completely registered in me, either.


	39. Responsibility

** A/N: I've been spending a lot of time planning and researching. My mind is clear and the inspiration is coming back, yay :) I'm fixing to start the next chapter, so that should be up within a couple of days!**

* * *

Time is short. It may be able to drag on in the dullest moments, but then you blink an eye and it is gone. When time really matters, it gallops by at a dizzying speed. Just this once, I plead it will slow down.

There is too much to do in the next week. Finnick will be in the arena in less than seven days. He may think he's ready, but no one ever is. Seven days is not enough time to physically and mentally prepare him for the arena and go through all the dirty details I spared him as he grew up. Subtract from that time the hours of prep work and other events that sacrifice precious time for the sake of presenting the Hunger Games as a glamorous show.

I mentally add to the list of hours I will lose: Time spent in the sponsorship hall, sleep, my responsibilities to the rebellion. I don't see when I'm going to fit the last one in, but visiting Plutarch is a must.

If only the clock hanging in the District Four suite would move a little slower. The tributes have been whisked away to prepare for the opening ceremonies tonight, and each minute that passes makes me feel like I should be doing something more productive with my time.

I decide that now might be my best bet to go talk to Plutarch. Without a moment's hesitation, I pull myself up and make a trek to the front door. My hand is already on the cool metal of the knob when Sabina Folli pops up at my side and makes me jump.

"When did you get there?" I ask.

She just stares at me with wide, color-framed eyes. "Where are going?" she asks, sounding completely confused and a little hurt.

"I'm going take a walk while the kids are getting ready," I explain.

"But…but what if you aren't back in time? It's my first day as an escort. I can't show up to the opening ceremonies missing a member of my team!" she exclaims. Her voice is shaky and her bright hair flops as her body trembles.

"There's no need to be so nervous," I assure her. "Victors are always allowed to go as we please and we always make it back in time."

I'll give her some leeway since she's new. Still, it's difficult not to automatically label Sabina as a perfectionist based off of what I have seen so far today. She was inexplicably upset by Raini's decision to not participate in the little icebreaker game she had planned for us earlier, and it seems that my leaving now worries her because it doesn't align with her schedule.

She isn't convinced, but time isn't pausing for her to warm up to the idea. "I'll be back in two hours," I say brusquely and make my exit.

The different buildings of the Capitol are all familiar scenes to me. As always, I take a right at the lime green bakery that fills the street with the scent of fresh bread. A left past the curb that holds the shiny silver fountain that children toss coins into. Ten minutes of walking down the only road with a crooked street sign. Dodge the men and women who are so preoccupied that they carelessly bump into others as they walk along the sidewalk.

Plutarch has moved to a bigger house and has plenty of responsibilities, but he spends virtually all of his time at the little bookstore where I first met him. It's almost a guarantee that I can find him there, going through the rows of books and satiating his hunger for knowledge.

"Mags," he says in acknowledgment when he notices me. "I saw the reapings. That was the boy you were trying to look out for, wasn't it?" he asks, wincing.

"Yep. I'm sure my reaction gave it away." We had watched the recap on the train ride here. Though the camera didn't focus on me, my agape expression could be seen in the background.

"Only because I was looking for it. Most probably didn't notice," Plutarch says. "How are you handling things? There's so much to be done. I hope you're up to it this year."

I know he is talking about rebellion business. I look at the plump man hunched over the bookshelf. He's in his forties now, but something about him suggests youth. My setback is not going to stop him from gathering information and laying foundations. I'm surprised he has any time on his hands with his job as a gamemaker.

I would give anything to be young and full of energy right now, because it looks like that's what it takes to double task efficiently.

"There's a lot on my plate right now. I'm more worried about Finnick. I'll try to do what I can, but he has to be my priority. I'm sorry. I would die for this cause in a heartbeat, and that's my decision to make, but Finnick was never asked. I can't let him take the fall if we dragged him into it," I say.

"You think we did?" he asks, brushing off his suit.

"We can't be so careless with the letters," I tell him. I don't want to place blame or start an argument, but it has to be addressed.

"Oh! The letters!" he pipes up. I half expect him to follow up with an apology or at least an agreement that it was a bad idea. Then a gleam appears in his eyes and he goes off on a different tangent. "I had to give you the news about finding Snow's daughter. She goes by a different name now, so locating her was difficult to say the least. I wanted your opinion before taking further action."

"What do you have in mind?" I ask, curious now. I'm not sure what part she plays in any of this besides being biologically linked to our enemy.

He starts speaking in quick, excited tones that are difficult to keep up with. "Well, I'm not sure yet. But I do know she goes by Cora Cort these days. Her birth name is Roslyn Cora Snow. I'm assuming Cora is a nod to Coriolanus. She's an illegitimate child and grew up with her mother, and, from what I can tell, she has a bad relationship with her father. The point is, she is the only living biological link we have to the president. That has to help us somehow."

"Yes, but what do you suppose we do?" I ask, still lost. "She may have problems with her father, but that won't make her turn against the Capitol to help us."

"I know, but if there is anyone in this world Snow cares enough about to reveal a weakness, his daughter would be the best bet. What else are we going to use against him?"

I feel uneasy at the thought of using Snow's child against him. It's not that I would feel bad for him; I would feel too much_ like_ him. Using loved ones for control is his game.

Regardless of their relationship now, if Snow ever looked into the eyes of a newborn baby girl and felt nothing but joy and love and a need to protect…I gulp involuntarily. If he ever felt even a smidge of the emotions that ran through me when I held my little boy for the first time, taking advantage of him in that way would be inexcusable. I refuse to sink as low as him.

"We can't do that. This has nothing to do with Roslyn Snow," I say adamantly. Then I sigh. "We can't let ourselves become like him, Plutarch. It's wrong and all we would accomplish is provoking him. That's probably why poor Finnick is here in the Capitol right now, and I have to take the blame for it."

For once, Plutarch appears unsure of what to say. His words come in hushed breaths a minute later. "Expect dense fog in the arena. The further away from the Cornucopia, the more dangerous things get. His best bet is to stay near a river in the center. The river is safe, but there are two large waterfalls, so I don't recommend swimming down the current while the fog obstructs vision."

I try to take in as much of that as possible. "Fog, stay in center, waterfalls. Got it. Thank you so much." I let a small but honest smile grace my face.

"It's the least I can do," he says.

"Can you do anything to watch out for him in the arena, too? It would mean the world to me."

"I can try, but Seneca Crane makes the final calls. I'll do my best," he promises.

I thank him again. We both turn when a loud advertisement for this year's Games comes on over the TV, complete with blaring action music and a compilation of scenes from the past.

"One thing I do like about being a gamemaker is the show we get to put on. I'm telling you, if I could use that editing equipment for my own purposes, I could make propaganda that would convince the entire nation," he says passionately. "What this country needs is some education. If everyone could see that the gap between rich and poor is the root of all problems, maybe people would be open to change. I don't understand why some of the districts seem so resistant."

"They have to worry about survival before they can worry about the good of humanity," I add sadly.

We're quiet again as the screen shows a replay of the burning ruins of District Thirteen. "It's such a shame that it's been in that same condition for sixty-five years," Plutarch sighs.

"That's one of my earliest memories," I say. Plutarch looks at me questioningly and I clarify. "The announcement of the first Hunger Games. I was too young to really experience the rebellion, but that footage of Thirteen was enough to scare me. They've been showing that same clip since I was five years old."

"It's not always the same, though. Every so often they'll have a reporter out there for an update," Plutarch insists.

I shake my head. "It's always the same. Same smoke in the same places and there's always a piece of debris blowing in the same spot. I'm sure the broadcasts are just using technology to save themselves from having to travel way out there. The air may still be unhealthy."

Plutarch brings his hand to his chin and stares off in deep thought. "I never noticed that. I wonder if there's a reason behind it. Thirteen had all the nuclear weapons. Hmm, if we could get our hands on those we would actually have a fair shot in a war…"

"I wouldn't read too much into it. We have other priorities," I remind him.

He still seems distant. After a few failed attempts at conversation on the other victors we are grandfathering into our rebel group, I give up and reluctantly feed into his speculation. "If you are as good at editing as you say you are, you can offer to fly out there with a crew and film footage for a new commercial. If they come up with an excuse, then we have reason to be suspicious. If not, nothing changes."

He only nods. I glance at the old wall clock on the side of the room and decide that it's time I get back to Finnick.

I come back to see he has finished with his styling session. When Lilith worked as a stylist, it was pretty much a guarantee that tributes would be dressed as either mer-folk or fish, so long as scales were in style for the year. The current stylist is a little more adventurous. It looks like this year, we will have a duo of sailors.

They've left Finnick barefoot and bare-chested, which doesn't surprise me at all. The only clothes he has on are a pair of white pants and a captain's hat. Underneath the cap, I can see that they have cut Finn's boyish bronze locks into a shorter, more mature style. It is clearly meant to make him look older, so the women can feel less guilty about ogling over a child.

"I told you you'd look so much better with your hair short," I say jokingly.

Finnick leans over and tries to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the shiny refrigerator. "Well I can't argue with that. I do look pretty good," he says, taking off his hat to run a hand through his new hair.

We both turn at the sound of our escort coming into the room. Raini trails behind her with crossed arms and an agitated expression.

"Thank heavens you're back. We're having an _in-fest-tation_!" Sabina cries. She literally looks like tears are threatening to stream down her face at any second. Finnick and I exchange a glance.

"There was one bug. It was a silverfish in the bathroom," Raini says unenthusiastically.

Finnick bursts into laughter behind me and the escort shoots him a death glare from behind thick eyelashes.

"What's going on?" a girl's voice asks from behind.

Kelsie stands in the doorway in her own sailor costume. For her, the get-up includes a white top that just covers her chest and a blue miniskirt. She has a red tie around her neck and a matching captain hat with an anchor print. It's painfully clear that the stylists felt she had some "flaws" that needed to be fixed, because her make up makes her almost unrecognizable.

"Better stand behind me, Kels. We're having a full-out infestation and it seems pretty dangerous," Finnick says.

Sabina's lip is quivering now, and as tempting as it is to poke fun at silly people such as herself, I can see she really is as fragile as she appears. It's better to stop now before we have a sobbing escort on our hands.

"We'd better get going. The parade starts in just under an hour and it never hurts to be early," I suggest. Truthfully, I want us to have some extra time out in the noise and commotion of City Circle, where cameras won't be listening to my every word.

I wait for the escort to insist I change into nicer clothes than the casual outfit from home that I'm currently wearing, but she seems to be in too sour a mood to notice. I smile to myself. The things they try to dress me in these days look ridiculous on anyone over forty, and I'm grateful no one is badgering me about my appearance.

On our way out, I grab a little notebook I had started writing in during the reapings. Each page contains information on a different tribute. I jotted down notes on things I could not trust myself to remember. I especially focused on the careers from One and Two. Tonight I plan on adding to the notes if I see anything interesting about the body language of the tributes as they pass on chariots.

The tribute parade is not like the interviews. The latter is carefully planned, and though you get a lot more information on each tribute, it is not guaranteed to be true. Here, the tributes don't have to put up facades. If you study them closely, body language can separate the shy, scared tributes from those who are convinced they have a shot at winning.

I tuck the notebook under my arm when we get there. All the horses are chained to the chariots already, and they stand in a line that bends around City Circle. Daylight still streams through and casts the sun in our eyes. The only other district here already is Eight. A young victor named Cecelia helps her female tribute as she struggles against a tight corset that flares out into a quilt of fabric.

"I'm glad I didn't have their stylists," Finnick notes. "The boy's costume looks like it's going to swallow him."

I start nodding to agree with him before I remember that there are more important things to discuss than District Eight's outfits. "Listen, Finn," I begin, turning just slightly to hold onto his arm. I keep my voice low to be on the safe side. "The training center is bugged. This is one of the few places we can speak in privacy, and I have a few things to say."

"I'm listening," Finnick says.

"First off, I'm sorry you're in this situation." I look up at him and let my guard down enough to show the guilt and pain I'm feeling. "I never wanted this for you. I should've known it was too dangerous-"

"No," Finnick cuts me off. "I don't want you to feel bad, Mags. It is what it is. All we can change is how we deal with it. Now let's get to the important stuff."

"But are you really okay with all of this?" I ask, knowing that any answer he gives won't put my worries at ease.

"I think so," he answers honestly. Here he isn't worried about impressing others. "I'll admit I am nervous for the arena, but I really think it will be okay. I have a decent shot at winning. Don't you think so?" he asks.

"I do think you have a shot. It just scares me to think of you in that situation with all those older careers. Six years of training and I never really thought you would have to use them. I need you to do everything you can to be the one who comes out, you hear? I have some information on the arena, so you will know what to expect."

His expression perks up and his green eyes shine with interest. "How did you manage to get that?" he asks incredulously.

"Don't worry about that for now. This has to stay between us. Not even Kelsie can know," I say.

"Okay," he agrees reluctantly.

"There will be a lot of fog. You're going to want to stay as close to the center of the arena as possible because it gets more and more dangerous the further you go out. There will be a river and two large waterfalls, so be careful to look where you swim. We'll figure out alliances later this week," I say in one big breath.

"Things are going to be different from now on, even if you win," I add on. "We'll work through it together. All I know is I can't lose you to the Capitol, Finnick. I can't."

"You won't," he says confidently. He rests his head on my shoulder for a split second, just like he used to do when he was little. But there are people here, and he's a teenage boy who cares a lot about his image, so the moment doesn't last long.

He looks up at something and I follow his gaze to see President Snow walk out onto the balcony of his mansion. He's aged as much as I have. The once young president's hair is now a powdery white that is true to his name. He still has a frail gait and icy eyes that have been in far too many of my nightmares. Even the single white rose upon his lapel has stayed the same.

"Are we supposed to go talk to him before or after?" Finnick asks.

I shake my head vehemently. "Oh, no. I haven't been within fifty feet of that man in decades. I don't think I could handle being near him again."

Finnick knows that I lost family in the past, and that Snow played a part in it. I spared him the details because I can't handle telling them myself. It seems even my thoughts can't bare reliving the scene because my head gets fuzzy every time; my brain's way of protecting my health by shielding me from things I have proven myself incapable of handling.

"It's his fault you were alone for all those years," Finnick says, echoing my thoughts. He looks out towards the man on the balcony with unconcealed distaste. "I don't blame you for not being on speaking terms."

"The last time I was near him, I had my arms around his throat in a chokehold, so yeah, we're not going to go have any pleasant conversation," I say.

"Hold on, you _strangled the president_?" Finnick questions, his mouth falling open in surprise. "Are you kidding, or were you really a complete badass when you were young and just never told me?"

I want to laugh at that. I really do, but the memory attached to it is too painful to even fake a smile. Instead I frown. "I wouldn't say that. Anyone would've reacted the same. That's what happens when a person is pushed too far."

"But you strangled the freaking president! The most powerful man in the world! I don't think I can get over that."

I shake my head and look away. My head is already pounding and I don't want to stay on this topic for long.

"Is that what it's like in the arena?" Finnick asks after a minute.

"Possibly. I hope you never have to experience it. The adrenaline rush might give you bravery for a minute, but you still have to live with the consequences of your actions," I tell him. It's true. The only other time I completely lost control of my mind and actions was during my time in the arena, just after Kai was killed. It lead to me killing Osten without a moment of hesitation, and his death is blood on my hands that I still carry over fifty years later.

"All tributes report to your chariots immediately," comes a stern voice over an intercom. I hadn't noticed that the other districts had arrived. Finnick runs off to help Kelsie climb up, and I make my way back over to the District Four group.

Dramatic lighting envelopes the giant circle and chases away the dusk that had been sinking in. An announcer delivers a preliminary speech to welcome everyone while I pull out the notebook and prepare to review my notes.

District One is the first to roll out. Each tribute wears a giant golden headpiece encrusted with sparkling jewels. My notes list their names as Armano and Idalia. Both have light brown hair, a bit darker than the traditional fair color of tributes from One. Armano stands poised as a statue and doesn't bother making eye contact with the crowd. Idalia is all smiles and waves until she sees her partner's posture and does her best to mimic him.

Both are volunteers, and I have a feeling they will be interacting with Finnick before and during the Games.

Wally and Alexandra from Two are also volunteers. Their costumes depict them as war chiefs of some sort, with shields and painted faces. The outfits would match perfectly with the District One tributes' posture.

The boy looks like he doesn't quite take it seriously. He pretends to pound against his armor and his unusually long sandy hair keeps blowing into his face and mouth. Still, his muscles cannot be ignored. Alexandra looks barely tolerant of her partner. She stands as far away from him as the chariot will allow, but I can't discern much more than that.

I pay attention to Three mainly because Plutarch had mentioned that some victors from the district have shown interest in a rebellion. As usual, the tributes look tiny and meek amidst the careers. In these Games, though, brains can count for a lot. The boy has a spark in his eyes behind glasses and looks as if he is evaluating the crowd.

There is a collective shriek from the crowd when Finnick's chariot rolls past. Women in the front hang over the barrier and toss roses in his direction. Finnick may be one of the youngest ones here, but he doesn't really look it. His height and athletic build make him look stronger and older than many of the others, even though he has not matured enough to be presented as an adult.

For Finnick, responding to the crowd is barely acting. It is a natural extension of his personality and I can tell he soaks up the attention. _Your grandson has the world wrapped around his finger, _I had told Tom. It couldn't be more true now. He has already dazzled the crowd without having to utter a single word.

"They're doing so well!" Sabina squeaks, finally brought out of her bad mood.

Raini and I nod in agreement. I keep my eye on the Four duo as Five takes their place in the spotlight. Kelsie seems thrilled about the attention they are getting. She clings to Finnick's arm and points up to someone in the crowd. Finn waves in the general direction and I hear another round of shrieks.

"I've warned him before not to let himself get cocky, but it looks like it's helping him now," I say. I doubt either of my companions can hear me over the roar of the crowd.

I continue taking notes and try to ignore the exhaustion that is creeping up my bones. My muscles are stiff already and I would love to go back to the suite now and get some rest.

I'll have to ignore it. If I'm feeling this way already on day one, it will be a very long couple of weeks. I'm forced to admit that I'm getting too old for all of this. Mentoring is meant for the young. It is for those who can stay up long hours and get from place to place quickly and with energy to spare.

I'm probably overextending myself, but I have responsibilities to attend to. My body is not weak enough to be debilitating and my mind is still sharp enough to think critically. I must make the most of the time I have left.

It's harder now. That's a given fact.

But I still have plenty of life left in me. As long as Finnick needs me, I'm going to do everything in my power to be there.

* * *

**A quote from the actual Plutarch, a Greek historian: "An imbalance between rich and poor is the oldest and most fatal ailment of all republics." **

**Thought I would share :)**


	40. Remember

** A/N: This took a little longer than expected to come together. Updates will still be regular. Thanks so much to my regular reviewers!**

* * *

The tributes sit patiently on the sofa, their backs hunched and their eyes heavy with the remnants of sleep. They are already dressed in red and black training outfits that almost blend in with the dark furniture beneath them. Raini stands in front and barks instructions to them.

"You're not there to make friends. You want them to trust you, but getting attached in any way is a fatal mistake. Eventually every alliance falls apart, and if you want to win, you have to be the one who makes the first move. Keep them close for a while but take them out before the tension builds. Before it is expected," she says.

Finnick and Kelsie finally look awake for the first time since they woke up. Raini's words are blunt enough to command attention.

"What's the point of being in an alliance if you kill them off when they could still be helpful?" Finnick questions.

"Being in an alliance means taking a risk that can either pay off in the end or put you in more danger," I answer. "I'll tell you what I've told my tributes every year since I first started mentoring: make yourself useful. Once you stop being an asset, you're a liability."

"It's really not complicated," Raini interjects before the tributes can say anything. "Everything you do inside the arena and out is for survival. The only purpose of living is to fight for survival, and if someone tries to harm you, don't think for a second that you won't kill to defend yourself. Everything else is just an illusion made by humans who can't accept that their precious lives aren't truly important in the grand scheme of things."

"Well, thanks. That view of the world really brightened up my morning," Finnick says without enthusiasm. Kelsie frowns and her eyebrows furrow as if she is in deep thought.

"That doesn't mean nothing else is important," I say defensively. I'm barely able to restrain myself from throwing a glare at Raini. I know she is entitled to her own beliefs and it isn't worth trying to argue with the woman, but how exactly does she think this will help the tributes? Telling them their lives are virtually meaningless is hardly inspirational material.

Raini never saw the point in letting prep teams soften out her austere features. She stands as cold as a commander. To her, the world is not much of a puzzle at all. Decisions and choices are black and white shades, sharp as her personality and always discernable. It's this view that let her sacrifice her ally with no regret when she was in the first Quarter Quell. It is what kept her strong even when she was left without any family to turn to.

We all have our ways of coping that help us carry on. It's just that I could never see the world as a meaningless place or myself as an empty entity. I know what it takes to survive, and I know that it is different from actually _living_.

My comment gets no reply from the other victor. She decides to move away from the topic. Probably a wise decision. "Kelsie, what do you predict your chances of winning are?" she asks.

"One in twenty-four," the girl answers without hesitation. All of us sit in silence. That isn't the answer Raini was looking for.

Kelsie sits up straighter and bravely defends her response before the chastising comes. "I'm just saying, that's the mathematical answer. It would be less surprising if I won than someone from Ten or something, but that doesn't change the odds." Her grayish brown eyes show no insolence.

"And you're okay with that?" Raini asks in irritated disbelief. "You don't stand a chance out there with that attitude."

Kelsie scowls and Finnick offers her an arm around her shoulder in support.

"Kelsie, why did you volunteer, knowing your odds are only as good as anyone else's?" I ask.

"What other option is there?" she asks. "Work every day of your life until you're dead? I'll take the one in twenty-four chance if it's the only shot I have at doing something with my life. Anything is better than zero."

I nod, not sure what else to say. The child is a realist, refusing to overestimate her chances and making no effort to sugarcoat a lifetime of labor. We don't have much time to mull over her words before Sabina comes to take the tributes to their first day of training.

"What did you think about that?" I ask Raini when they have left.

"They don't stand a chance," she says negatively, and I am once again annoyed by her attitude. With that said, she disappears down the hallway, where she will undoubtedly stay for most of the day.

There are people everywhere: down the hall, on this floor and every other floor of the building. Cameras listen in, ensuring that we never get total privacy. With all of this going on, how is it possible to feel so alone?

Some avoxes work across the room, carefully stacking plates to be washed and arranging the kitchen until everything is perfect. These aren't the same servants that worked here when I was younger. That much is obvious, but age is not my point. For decades, the avoxes were members of the failed rebellion. That generation has almost completely come to pass, so why are these people here? What petty crimes did they commit to be sentenced to this life?

Everything has changed in terms of people, but nothing is really different. I wonder if Finnick shares any of the emotions I had as I went through the pre-Games events. If he does, he doesn't show it. His personality is completely different from mine, even back then. I still think it is more a matter of him not completely grasping what he will be dealing with in a few days.

There's one thing I saw that I could connect with. This morning, Finnick's hands were red and raw from hours of tying knots. I taught him to use it as an outlet for stress years ago, when the sound of the ocean was in the background and the Hunger Games were far away. I remember doing the same when I was a tribute. Just the image of those red hands brings me back to a time when I was not much older than him.

_It only took seconds for my hands to scream in complaint as I dangled from the metal bars of the obstacle course. I let go in resignation and landed hard on my feet. My hands were bright red and pulsing. I had not thought of the consequences when I had spent the better part of the night twisting and tying knots in the wispy rope. It had calmed my panic but left aching hands that hindered me in training. _

_ Kai was across the room throwing weights with the boys from One and Two. I watched them until a hand gripped my wrist from behind. I drew back instinctively and was about to throw out my other arm in defense when a voice stopped me. _

_ "What happened to your hands?" Kim asked, inspecting them without loosening her grip._

_ "Knot tying," I answered honestly. I knew she would assume I meant the knot station._

_ She looked at me through narrowed eyes as if to evaluate me. "Just how good are your nets, Four?" the taller girl asked._

_ I let myself stand a little straighter and relaxed my tense wrist. She would get the answer she wanted. It didn't matter that I didn't trust her. "They're excellent," I said confidently._

_ She released her grip and nodded in approval. "Good. Let's hope that's true."_

That alliance did not work out so well in the end. Our allegiance to each other was unsteady at best and I either watched or was involved in each of their deaths. I never feel comfortable about my tributes going head-first into an alliance unless it is with their district partner. By now, though, I've come to accept that most of them will ally with the other careers.

A glance at the clock informs me that the Sponsorship Hall should be opening any minute now. I drag myself to my room and dress myself in an outfit just nice enough to pass as presentable. I put minimal effort in pinning up my hair and touching up my face because, honestly, it isn't my appearance the people down there are worried about.

I take the elevator all the way down to the bottom floor. It opens to the familiar wide, dim-lit room. The richest of the rich are swarming around already, their bodies half in shadow. The other half reflects in a light orange hue.

The first time I came down here alone, it didn't go well. A lot of time has passed since I was that shaken, teary eyed young girl who vowed never to go seek out sponsors on her own ever again. I move to the center of the room and glance around, searching for the regulars who come every year.

A scrawny middle-aged man soon approaches me. His blue facial hair takes up a majority of his face and gives him a look that is almost comical. Every year, he comes here in a different colored jacket that is far too big for him. I like dealing with him because he is genuinely interested in sponsoring the tributes. Many of the men with dark smiles and women in busty clothes come here for a different kind of business.

It's only gotten worse with Snow's little plan for the victors. A lot of people come here to be put on waiting lists for the tributes they would like to spend a night with.

I turn my attention away from them and find a table for the man and me to sit. When he speaks, his moustache moves up and down, completely blocking any view of his mouth. His appearance may be amusing, but his tone is more composed and serious than the average Capitolite.

"You have the attractive young man everyone has been going on about," he says. "I suspect he will have many sponsors. I only want to know one thing. How extensive was his training?" His blue hair comes to a rest and he looks at me in curiosity.

"He's trained for several years, both in and out of the Career school. Life in Four lends itself to mastering weapons. Trust me when I say I can vouch for Finnick Odair's experience. I've seen him practice and he's very skilled," I say with an edge of pride in my voice.

The man nods and pulls out his checkbook. "That's all I needed to hear," he says as he scribbles down something. He hands the check over to me. I stare in awe at the large sum.

"This is very generous," I tell him.

"The past few years, I've spread out my money between several tributes and the pay-off hasn't been what I was expecting," he says matter-of-factly. "I'm taking a risk on this kid, but research and a bit of psychic advising has made me confident in my decision."

Psychic advising? Well, whatever works for him. "Thank you, sir. Would you mind telling those ladies over there that I sponsor Finnick Odair?" I ask, pointing to a group of ten or eleven women to the far right of the room.

"I suppose I can," he says, getting up brusquely and readjusting the massive jacket. I watch him walk across the room and tap one of the women on the shoulder. It isn't long before the entire group turns to face my direction.

Some of them walk toward me in a slow stride that matches the formality of the surroundings, but others are unabashed in the way they hurry across the room, bumping into cloth-covered tables on the way. The pull up chairs around my table until it becomes a crowded heap of people. It draws attention, and a few others approach the edge of the group to see what the commotion is.

The ladies range from very young to bordering on old. They badger me with questions that merge together to form a high-pitched, incomprehensible noise. I don't even try to answer the individual queries.

"I mentor Finnick Odair. I know he has attracted a lot of attention, and each and every donation will increase his chances of survival. I speak for Finnick when I say we greatly appreciate any help we can get."

I'm sure my voice will be drowned out, but somehow I am heard. Piles of checks and cash are practically thrown into my face. I've mentored many years and I've seen a lot. I expected Finnick to get a good deal of money, but this exceeds anything I expected.

Some of the women continue asking questions, and I decide to do my best to be personable. If I answer the questions right, they may choose to donate even more.

A few hours and several groups later, I leave the Hall more successful than I have ever been. I waste no time depositing the money to the District Four account. The number of credits on the banking screen skyrockets, and I can't help but think again that Finnick has a chance. Money can't secure a win, but it can make surviving the arena a whole lot easier. A few more days like this and we'll be set.

I'm still worried, of course, but the day's events have me in a good mood. I listen attentively as the tributes tell me stories about the day's happenings in training.

"The Careers are a tiny bit annoying, but they're cool. At least they are fun to be around. Most of the others looked too scared to have a simple conversation," Finnick says.

"Except Wally from Two," Kelsie says. She's huddled against Finnick's side as usual, and the latter doesn't seem to mind. "He's ridiculous," she almost spits.

"Aw, come on," Finn says, turning to face her. "He's hilarious! Besides, it's not like him playing pranks on the gamemakers affects us in any way."

"I'm sure it won't be hilarious when he plays pranks on us in the arena," Kelsie huffs. "And I don't like the way he talks to you. He doesn't have the right to call you 'Pretty Boy'. I don't care if he's joking or not; it sounded condescending to me."

"Lighten up, Kels. It's nice you are trying to look out for me, but I couldn't care less what he calls me."

"Tensions will only get worse once the Games start," I remind both of them. "How many people are you planning to ally with?"

Finnick answers first. "Probably One and Two. Maybe the boy from Three and one from Seven. I'm not sure. Kelsie and I decided we're staying together, so that's the only definite."

"Keep in mind that the more allies you have, the more resources you have to share. We're doing really well on sponsor money already, and it's less of an advantage if you are sharing with several other districts," I say. I would rather pump money into helping Four's tributes than buying items for other districts to benefit from as well.

"That's true," Kelsie says pensively. She pushes her black hair back, as she usually does when she is considering something "Training scores should help, too. Those numbers mean a lot to sponsors."

Finnick nods. "What score did you get when you were a tribute, Mags?" he asks.

"An eight," I answer without difficulty. Then I another thought. "I doubt what I did then would be worth an eight today. Kids are better trained, and they judge it a lot harder. An eight back then might only be a five or six today."

I look at the two teenagers. Both are trained, and though their training did not follow the same curriculum, I'm sure they will score in the eight-to-ten range. They are experiencing the same things I went through but on a heightened scale.

Hopefully the heightened amount of sponsorship will make a difference as well.

* * *

The stubborn prep team pushes tons of before and after pictures to my face in an attempt at persuasion.

"See, just a few hours and you'll look thirty years younger! No more nasty wrinkles, and it's all free of cost! You're going to look amazing once we can actually see your face again," the first one babbles.

The second keeps a hand on my hair and pushes a bottle so close to my eyes that it is impossible to focus on it. "I saw a picture of you from your Hunger Games," he says. "Your natural hair color was to die for! We can make it gorgeous again if you let us recolor this dull gray."

I can feel my patience slipping away by the second. Mentors are always given a prep team to prepare them for the interviews, but I never used to be pressured like this. Why should I be ashamed of growing older? Why would I want to hide it? In Four, wrinkles are respected, not frowned upon. It's said that each fold of the skin holds a layer of wisdom.

"I'm fine with how I look, thank you," I say curtly.

"But you can look so much better!" they squeal in near unison. I refuse to submit to their pleas. They leave and I think I'm in the clear until they bring in a stylist.

"I was told you were being noncompliant. We have a job to do, and it's important that each tribute and mentor represents our work in a positive light. It will be best for everyone if you let them fix you up," he says, not harshly, but in a way that sounds like he is completely uninterested.

If he had attempted to say it kindly, I might have an ounce of sympathy. It wouldn't change my decision, but I wouldn't be more irked now. The stylist wears designer shades despite the fact that we are indoors and gives off an attitude that says _I'm more important than you, so I can't be bothered to care about your problems_.

"I'm not a tribute. The decision is mine, and I'm not interested in changing my appearance. Sorry," I say, even though I'm not really sorry at all.

"We could lose our jobs if others don't think we are doing a good job," one of the prep members whimpers.

I sigh tiredly. "Cover me with makeup then. I don't care, as long as it can be washed off later tonight."

They seems complacent enough with that. They smear colorful creams and powders over my skin. They don't completely make the signs of aging disappear, but they do smooth out my face and make me look more different than I would like. My hair is curled and molded into a standard up-do.

One thing I am grateful for is that the prep team isn't inclined to dress me in anything revealing anymore. I'm put into a white blouse and silky sea-foam green skirt. A jacket of the same color covers my arms.

When I'm released from the room, I see Raini has been put in a similar outfit, except hers is a dress. Neither of us say a word the entire trip there, and Sabina is left scrambling to fill in the silence. My thoughts are elsewhere.

I'm sure Finnick will do fine tonight. I just can't stop wondering how the week went by so fast. This is it. The Hunger Games begin tomorrow and everything is becoming terrifyingly real.

Mentors, stylists, and escorts get priority seating. The other victors file in behind. Everyone swishes by in a flurry of movement. Cameras are being put in place and citizens shuffle around, looking for an open seat. It always baffled me how it can all go from complete chaos to perfect and orderly the second the show starts.

Sure enough, the instant smoke begins to fill the stage, everyone miraculously finds their seats. Cheers fill the entire area when Caesar Flickerman materializes from the haze. This job is Caesar's life. He's been in the spotlight since before he could talk and his childhood was spent co-hosting the show alongside his father. He's been around for decades, but his appearance never changes, aside from the color of his hair.

This year, his hair, lips, and eyelids are colored a lustrous gold. As always, he wears a midnight blue suit with small light bulbs adorning the sides. He is the living incarnation of his father, and he embodies the same spirit and enthusiasm.

Another cloud of smoke appears, and it soon dissipates to reveal a long sofa that seats all twenty-four tributes. After a few minutes of warming up the crowd, Caesar gets the ball rolling. The interviews are generally the same each year, with broad questions and even more generic answers.

The careers each have their own angle. Soldierly Armano from One is completely serious and composed. His district partner, Idalia, presents herself as loyal. Two's group is slightly more entertaining because Wally is the polar opposite of the boy from One. Maybe they could balance each other out in a friendship, but alliances are not really the place for such differing personalities. I can already see trouble forming there.

If the dark-haired Alexandra from Two had an angle, it fell apart before it could be fleshed out. She stumbles across the stage like a newborn calf in massive heels, and when Caesar makes a joke about it, her attitude turns sour. Finnick had said the group of careers was "a bit annoying, but cool." I try to picture the three districts together in an alliance, and I fail to see it. Four and One, maybe, but Two already looks dangerously unstable.

As expected, Finnick is met with cheers and screams when he makes his way to the chair across from Caesar. He looks handsome in his white tux and aqua-green vest. The color makes his green eyes shine even more brilliantly than usual. The stage lighting brings out the golden undertones in his bronze hair and lights up his face. Sitting up there, he doesn't look like the little boy I used to watch run alongside the waves. He looks grown up, and everyone can see it.

"Finnick Odair, I hope you can hear me over the screams of all of your fans," Caesar laughs. He looks out to the audience. "How many of you are fans of this young man?"

Another round of eardrum-bursting screams overtake the room. Finnick smiles and waves to the crowd. His eyes scan around, though I doubt he is looking at anyone in particular.

When the noise tapers off, Caesar extends a hand and rests it on Finnick's chair. "I think what surprised us all the most is the fact that you're one of the youngest in this competition!"

"Caesar, a few years doesn't make much of a difference. Age is just a number. The way I see it, it doesn't change anything about who I am or what I am capable of," Finnick says. The crowds claps in affirmation.

"Of course not! I wouldn't count you out for a second. You have an unmistakable charm and a very respectable training score of 10. We couldn't help but notice, though, that you are not a volunteer. Is there anything you would like to say on that topic?"

"You got me, Caesar. I think that is the one thing we can use my age as an excuse for," Finnick laughs. "Where I'm from, volunteering before eighteen is almost unheard of. I didn't expect to become part of the Hunger Games so early, but that doesn't mean I'm not prepared."

"I'm thrilled to hear that," Caesar smiles widely. "One more thing. We're all itching to know who the most hated girl in Panem is."

"I'm not sure I follow you," Finnick says.

"What I mean is, who is the girl the entire nation can be jealous of? Who is the one who owns Finnick Odair's heart?" he asks eagerly.

"Oh," Finnick says, and then he smiles almost impishly. "No one in particular. How could I tie myself down to someone when there are so many beautiful women out here in the Capitol?"

The screams that come next are loud enough to prevent any further questioning. Finnick did what he was supposed to. In our session, I told him that it was of upmost importance to make the women feel like he cared about them. As twisted as it is, making them think they have a chance with him is what will get the Capitol on his side.

The commotion makes it hard to hear the first half of Kelsie's interview. She looks like she has as much trouble with the heels as the girl from Two, but she isn't embarrassed by it. From what I can hear, she and Caesar go back and forth on a commentary about the newest fashion style being a health hazard.

It isn't long before they switch to the generic go-to questions. He briefly asks her about her 8 in training (which Raini had called substandard, but the crowd praises), before switching to the usual family talk.

"What is your family like? Were they supportive of your decision to volunteer?" Caesar questions.

Kelsie shifts in her chair, uncomfortable for the first time. "I don't think my father was, cause I'm his little girl and he wants me safe and all that. My mom understands, I think. She's like me in how she knows there must be something more out there than what we have. She would probably volunteer too if she could do it over again."

Caesar looks at her with a gleam of intrigue. "What do you mean by something more? Is there something you're looking for that the Hunger Games could give you?"

"I don't know how to explain it." She looks up with stormy eyes. "A lot of people call us lazy, and it's true that I don't like to work. I'll admit that training did let me pin my chores on my little sister. It's just that…spending day after day doing the same thing is a waste of life. There has to be something more out than that."

With that, her buzzer goes off. I'm not sure how she stands compared to the other careers, but I think her interview had substance. As much as I need Finnick to win, I don't want to see her go. I wish she could find that something she is looking for.

All in all, it's been a successful year for District Four in the pre-Games events. I pray it continues in the arena.

I can't bring myself to say goodbye to Finnick that night. It is too painful. He's in for a rude awakening tomorrow, and I'm scared I am as well. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that he might not make it out. How many times have I had to pick up the shattered remains of a former life and build a new one? I can't start over again, and Finnick does not deserve to have his life cut short.

"Finn, this isn't goodbye. Please, do everything you can to come back. For both me and your parents. Please," I say as I hug him outside of his room.

"It'll work out. This isn't goodbye," he repeats, but he sounds a little less sure of himself than usual.

I'm about to tell him good night when something else hits me. "I'm going to tell you something that was said to me. Don't forget who you are and what you stand for. Do what you must, but don't lose yourself in the process."

"How?" Finnick asks. "I don't understand. I have to kill to survive but that doesn't mean that's who I am?" His intonation transforms it into a question.

"I know it doesn't make sense right now. You'll figure it out," I say. I try to keep my voice light and hopeful. I don't think it works.

"Good night, Mags. Thanks for everything you've done," Finnick says.

"That sounds too much like goodbye, Finn. Let's be thankful after this is all over," I say. I pat his arm and then we reluctantly go our separate ways.

Sleep doesn't come easily, and when it does, it isn't restful. Each snippet of a dream involves the day starting and going through the motions in the mentor room. By the time morning actually comes, I feel exhausted from having lived it so many times in the past few hours.

Finnick and Kelsie are already gone. I sit around for a few hours, my mind racing far too much to focus on doing anything productive. The dreaded time approaches fast. I bang on the locked door of Raini's room and try to yell at her to get up. Déjà vu replays a similar scene from forty years ago. This time, she isn't my problem to deal with, and I decide to leave her to get up on her own terms.

It doesn't take long to get to the mentor room. I check each screen to make sure it is functioning properly. Then it becomes a game of waiting. Ten minutes to go. Finnick is underneath the arena, wherever that may be. His stylist is presenting him with the outfit right now. How is he feeling? Underneath that façade, is he anywhere near as petrified as I was?

_I twirled my necklace around anxiously while Lilith pulled the clothes out the bag. "Ugly color," she had said. The pale yellow-green outfit and brown tennis shoes didn't have a wrinkle on them. They weren't yet covered in rips and tears and blood. Lilith and I had speculated about the possibility of water as my heart rate started picking up._

One minute until Finnick will have to get into the glass tube. The robotic voice will be ordering him to step in now. Once he takes that final step, there is no going back.

_I had frozen in place when the voice told me I had thirty seconds. Every fiber of my being warned me not to take that last step. _

_ "Get a grip, girl. All of Panem is watching," Lilith told me. Her voice was harsh as always. She gripped my shoulders and walked me to the tube. My heartbeat pattered and stuttered. Fear took over my body and made it nearly impossible to talk or breathe. _

Tributes are now in transit. Finnick, Kelsie, and the other twenty-two have begun their ascent to the arena that awaits them. My screen will come to life any second now. I'm vaguely aware that Raini has finally made it here and is in the seat next to me. Any second now…

_ First there was darkness. Cold, impenetrable darkness that blocked out all the senses. But soon I learned that the darkness was safe. The blinding white light was dangerous, because it meant I had arrived._

The screens come alive in a flash of light. The tributes are up now, and I see Finnick squinting his eyes. He opens them to look at his surroundings. When I was in his place, I saw a vast sea of high grass.

That is not what his eyes are seeing now. His sight now aligns with mine in present time as I look over the arena. Plutarch's words prove true. The cornucopia is on a flat expanse surrounded by barren cliffs. A subtle fog hangs where the tributes are now, but it gets much thicker in the distance.

Tops of cliffs and trees poke their heads out from the white mass that engulfs them. Further out, nothing is visible but a white shroud. My map claims it to be thick forest. A wide river runs from the north to the southernmost area of the arena.

Time is winding down. The last few numbers of the countdown echo in both my memories and in the room.

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1_

Let the bloodbath begin.


End file.
